


All is Fair in Love and War

by depr3ssoespresso



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), dnf - Fandom, dreamnotfound - Fandom, mcyt
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Curses, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Historical Inaccuracy, Love/Hate, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Multi, Mythology References, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Pain, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Secrets, War, Wicca, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29556672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depr3ssoespresso/pseuds/depr3ssoespresso
Summary: In another world, where phones are swapped out for healing crystals, and guns for swords, two kingdoms form an unexpected allyship, leaving two stubborn princes with no choice but to co-operate for the sake of the greater good.But a healer and a warrior don't tend to get along. They fight, they bicker, their coversations are full of venom and hurtful insults thrown at eachother with easy carelessness. But as problems arise, and innocent people get hurt in the process, will the two be able to overstep their petty fights and work together to succeed? Or are there no real winners in love and war?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 56





	1. Prologue

Had either of them known the path that fate would choose for them, they'd think it was lunacy. Perhaps it is lunacy, but that's the pure, raw beauty of it. That's what makes it interesting, intriguing, what makes you sweat uncomfortably and laugh hysterically.

There's a fine line between lunacy and reality, in the grand scheme of things, but we didn't come here for an existential crisis. It's funny, really, how much one person could change your life, how they could take the world as you know it and, with a gentle snap of their fingers, completely twist it far beyond comprehension and into a realm of ecstasy. But that's if you get lucky, which isn't always the case. Sometimes the ecstasy is swapped out for searing agony, and sometimes it's undermined by deep set fear. Truthfully, it's out of our control and we live to learn to accept this cruel joke.

In their world of crowns, fake smiles, swords and secrecy, trust is seldom given. Trust is an essential to human survival, but it is also the cause of most misfortune. But they don't know that in the beginning, otherwise this story would be no fun now, would it? What's the world without a little pain?


	2. Information/Disclaimers

Okay hello hello

So obviously this is a dreamnotfound/gream or whatever you want to call it story, but this also has a fairly complicates plot, which means that I will often shift focus to other members of the SMP in order for the story to make sense, so it won't constantly follow the actions of Dream and George. I want to preface this by saying that I will change little parts of SMP members' behaviour to fit the story as I see appropriate. That goes for all of the characters within this story. I know that neither Dream or George care about fanfiction, but some of the things that the characters in this story will do absolutely do not correlate with the real life Dream and George or any of the other characters I use.

I'm not really following any paticular Dream SMP script, this is not set in minecraft or anything like that, though the world may seem similar. I'm setting this in a medieval type of setting with the whole royalty thing, but, again, I don't aim to be 100% historically accurate. This is a work of pure fiction so I kind of make it up as I go along.

If there is any paticularly sensitive topic in a chapter, I will always always always use warnings at the start of the chapter and at the beginning and end of the sensitive scene. You're obviously free to skip the parts you don't want to read and I'll try my best to summarise that part briefly so that the story makes sense anyway.

I feel like every author says this but this is my first oFfIciAl work, so any constructive critisicm is very appreciated and encouraged :)

That's all from me, enjoy!


	3. Swords and Secrecy

'You actually, really think you can beat me right now?' A voice shouted across the field, sending cold shivers down his opponent's back.

His sword was ready in his hands, heavy and sure. This is his favourite sword, the blade is long and slim, the handle weighed just the right amount to make the instrument balanced and lean. It was hand made by the kingdom's best blacksmith, especially for the prince, on behalf of his father's request. It was a gift for his 16th birthday, when his father had led him out into the courtyard and gave him the yearly talk about what it means to be a prince. The memory is hazy, but pleasant, unlike many others.

A smirk graced the prince's face as his opponent charged towards him with a pole axe. The prince squinted his eyes against the bright spring sun and raised his sword in preperation of the inevitable clash. When it came, he was ready. His feet were firmly planted in the ground and his sword was at the right angle to balance out his strength against the handle of the axe. Both men grunted and pushed against eachother harder, but with no change. The prince loosened his grip and slid under his opponent, causing the latter to lurch forward, before turning around to gain his balance once again.

'Oh come on Dream, you could do better than that,' the man said, rushing towards the prince once again, though this time he dropped his axe and ran towards Dream with bare hands. Dream raised a curious eyebrow, but dropped his sword too and bent his knees to bring him at torso height with his opponent. As the figure moved closer, Dream grabbed his torso easily with both hands and pushed against him as much as his body would allow, knocking them both onto the ground. The grass was wet from last night's downpour and Dream could feel the water droplets sink into his shirt as the other man twisted him around so that his back was on the ground whilst his opponent held him down with his legs on his chest, preventing him from getting up. Dream grunted and raised his hand, delivering a well calculated blow to a pressure point on his opponent's knee, causing him to wince in pain and momentarily loosen his hold, giving Dream enough time to sit up and place the other into a tight choke hold. His rival wriggled around, attempting to kick up with his knee hopelessly.

Dream laughed coldly and placed his legs over the other man's, essentially rendering him useless. Dream cocked an eyebrow when he continued to wriggle, surprised at his determination. A couple moments later, he felt three taps on his arm and instantly relaxed all his limbs, letting his opponent roll over on the grass and inhale huge lungfulls of air. Dream laughed again, though this time with a friendly tone.

'Alright, alright, stop laughing you cocky bastard,' the man said, turning around to face Dream, who was now walking across the field to collect his discarded sword.

'Sapnap, you know I'm better at hand to hand combat than you. I don't know what you were expecting,' Dream replied, offering a pouting Sapnap his hand to help him get off of the floor.

Sapnap continued to stare at Dream pointedly, while the other laughed again at his friend's expression. Dream sighed and began walking back towards the castle, sword in hand. Sapnap groaned and ran after him, discarding the axe completely. It was just a practice axe, anyway.

'What I was EXPECTING, was for my best friend to play fair,' Sapnap grumbled, shoving Dream slightly to the side with his shoulder. Dream laughed and hit him playfully on the back of his head, something he often did to indicate that Sapnap was being dumb.

'All is fair in love and war, Sappy,' Dream said, already running ahead because he knows that Sapnap hates getting called Sappy, especially when it comes from Dream. Sapnap rolled his eyes fondly and continued to walk. He knew that Dream would slow down eventually to let him catch up- after all, this has been their daily routine for years and years and they knew it inside and out.

-

'I don't know, Dream. You know how your father gets when we come here,' Sapnap says, his voice laced with gentle uncertainty.

'Oh come on, don't be a wuss. It'll be fine. He won't find out,' Dream replied, already pushing open the door into the kitchen, where the cooks were running around, chopping vegetables up frantically and preparing wide assortments of meat for tonight's dinner. Dream weaved his way past most of them successfully, only bumping into one of them accidentally and sending them a sorry smile. The cook doesn't even notice, too busy carrying a large pot of delicious smelling soup.

Sapnap stood against the door uneasily, watching the bustle of the kitchen and Dream as he tries to steal them a bowl of stew. They've been doing this since they were 10, which is why nobody is surprised to see them here after training. Dream is already on his way back, holding two wooden bowls full to the brim of meat and potatoes and with two spoons held in his mouth, when the door swings open. Dream drops the spoons instantly and quickly puts the bowls on the side table, standing in front of them sheepishly.

'Dream,' says a loud, booming voice.

'H-hi?' Dream stutters, quickly walking up to his father.

'Didn't I tell you about a million times not to come here in between meals?' he says with a condescending voice, making Dream flinch a little at the tone. He's gotten better at fighting it over the years, the flinching. It's almost unnoticeable now, unless you specifically look out for it.

'Y-yeah sorry,' he says carefully, 'just got hungry after training. Won't happen again,' he finishes, giving his father a barely reassuring smile.

'I don't expect it to,' his father replies, looking over at Sapnap with a cold glance, 'I need to talk to you, meet me in the chancery* in ten minutes.'

Dream nods solemnly and watches as his father leaves, shutting the door behind him. Dream visibly deflates and walks towards Sapnap, who has an uneasy look on his face, even after Dream's father is gone.

'What does he want to talk about?' Sapnap asks, picking up his forgotten bowl and leaning against the wall, beginning to eat.

'I don't know,' Dream says, crossing his arms over his chest protectively, his voice icy cold, 'I hope it's nothing bad, though. I don't know if I can stand to hear his critiscism today.'

Sapnap nods understandingly, still eating. Over the many years that he'd known Dream, his relationship with his father was never pleasant. It was almost common knowledge by now that Dream's father is one of the strictest rulers in all of the 7 kingdoms, and it just so happened that Dream got the worst of it. Being the oldest son and the heir to the throne came with crushing responsibilities as is, but when you're the son of King Rowan, the most famous and skilled fighter this world has seen, it becomes that much harder. Dream was forced to begin training as soon as he could hold a weapon and, despite being the best fighter in the kingdom, apart from his father, he still got never ending critiscim.

'Bend your knees more.'

'Watch your balance.'

'Aim better.'

'Run faster.'

Dream was never good enough in his father's eyes. There was always something he could do better, always room of improvement. Sapnap doesn't know how many times he'd wake up to see Dream sneaking out of the castle, with his sword or a bow in hand, in the middle of the night and run into the woods, to their secret training place- a small field in a clearing in the east of the forest. They'd discovered it together when they were much younger, after Dream was scolded so bad that he ran out of the castle with Sapnap hot on his heels. They'd wandered through the forest for hours until they found that little clearing, their safe heaven, away from strict rules and ambitious expecations. They'd stocked it with spare armour and weapons that they'd snuck out of the castle and built targets for solo training. Dream always went there when he needed to let off some steam, when the world had gotten too much and he could no longer handle his father's harsh glare or his mother's dissapointed looks. Though over time, it became his main training space- the place he'd sneak out to so that he could train more. To become better, he'd say.

Sapnap used to scold him for it. After countless nights in the forest, Dream would come back worn out and with dark circles under his eyes. Yet still, he'd insist that he was fine, that he could still train more because he needed to be the best to please his father. It seemed that Sapnap was the only one to notice how Dream lost his light during those nightly visits, how, when he came back, he was hollow and tired and completely emotionless. And no matter how much Sapnap asked him to stop, how much he tried to assure him that he doesn't need to please that asshole, Dream never listened. He'd always smile, say 'I'm fine,Sapnap, really,' but Sapnap could hear the extertion and strain in his voice and he could see the slim, red rings around his eyes. But Dream was stubborn, so Sapnap didn't know what else he could do but be by his side, offering support and friendship.

-

'Come in.' King Rowan said, upon hearing his son's knocks.

Dream walked into the room, shutting the door carefully behind him, making sure that it doesn't bang and make a noise. The last thing he needs right now is a stern remark from his father. He looks up to see his father standing in front of a large, oval window, looking down at the courtyard below him. Beyond the courtyard is the large expance of their kingdom. Endless seas of bright, green fields and dark evergreen forests unfold as far as the horizon. The sun is setting now, casting a gentle, orange hue on the little farm houses and huts on the hills. The farmers are herding the sheep into the barns and, for a moment, Dream lets himself rest in the beauty of his future kingdom, his home.

'What did you want to talk to me about?' Dream asks, his voice holding an uneasy curiosity.

'You know the Davidsons, right, Dream?' his father asked, finally turning to face Dream.

Dream did know the Davidsons. They were the family that governed the neighbouring kingdom. From what little he knew, they had a son, too, who was an excellent healer. He often heard the townspeople talk about his amazing healing remedies, and he'd caught wind of miracle stories of people travelling for days in hopes on the healer prince's kindess towards an ill loved one. Dream has never heard a bad word about the prince, though maybe because he never made a point to listen. He knew that the prince was around his age too.

As for that kingdom, they'd had an unsteady relationship with his own. They'd never been at war, though there were the occasional threats over an unsettled argument. The King, King Sadon, was a much more gentle king, according to the stories. Dream assumed it was true, since he let his only son become a healer intead of a soldier, like Dream. Dream was jealous to some extent, he was forced into violence at such a young age that he can't help but wonder what a different path in life would be like. Don't get him wrong, he was an exellent warrior- but that plagued him with the question of does he actully love fighting, or was he taught to love it? He'd never really gotten a say in what he does with his life, therefor he can never get a clear answer.

'They're the family that rule over the neighbouring kingdom,' Dream replied, easily.

'Yes, well, they're arriving here next week,' his father said, his eyes fixed on Dream, unmoving.

Dream inhaled sharply. They don't get visits from other kingdoms very often.

'They want to from an alliance with us. They will be here next week for a couple of days to talk about the conditions. As the next king, you should learn to handle proper negotiations.'

Dream nodded again, 'Will their prince be here, too?'

'Yes, Prince George will arrive here with King Sadon. It's total rubbish that King Sadon let his only son be a healer. What an absolute waste. Though I do suppose that King Sadon was never really one to ensure tradition,' his father said coldly, 'I want you to show him around the kingdom. Do not let him out of your sight. I don't trust them yet.'

'Of course, father.' Dream stated with a tone of finality. He didn't know how to feel. The only person he'd really talked to is Sapnap, so having to make friends with some foreign prince was way out of his comfort zone. But he couldn't afford to dissapoint his father, so he simply nodded reassuringly.

Next week was going to be interesting.

*chancery- basically a medieval office for legal paperwork and stuff like that (according to google)

2.2k words! This is the first chapter, so it's a little rough. Let me know what you think :)


	4. (In)Stability

Sunlight caressed the leaves of the trees that towered above everyone else, bathing the surroundings in warm, golden light. The grass sparkled enticingly, glisteneing under the yellow rays of sun with a soft glow. It was quiet, not even all the birds were awake yet, only a couple brave risers that chirped on the highest tree branches, signaling the start of the day. These peaceful mornings were rare, but they were very well appreciated. These kinds of mornings were merciful; to the farmers that cared for thier stock tirelessly, for the parents who spent their days looking after their children, for the prince that worked strenuously for his kingdom. But these mornings were temporary, just like very aspect of life. Life is everchangeing, nothing stays the same.

Under an ordinary tree sat an extraordinary prince, with dark, mahogany hair and deep brown eyes that were currently running over the fine print fo his own, spidery handwriting. He had a small, leather-bound journal in his lap that was full to the brim with messy, overlapping squiggles and surprisingly delicate drawings. You could see where the prince had woven in extra paper, not because it was done poorly, no, it was because of the colour of the paper. The older, more frail pages had a dark, yellow undertone that stood out as a dark contrast compared to the other parts of the journal that were newer. The man's fingers skimmed over the looping script, reciting the words under his breath. The area around him was clear, save for the small fabric pouch that sat next to him and a couple small jars of dried hebs, shiny crystals and vials of sweet smelling oils.

'George!' yelled a voice that sounded like it was somewhere near the treeline.

George cursed under his breath, but didn't look up from what he was reading, instead choosing to lean back further against the tree, propping up the journal on his knee.

'George! I've been running around the whole kingdom looking for you.' the voice tried again, this time with a tone of playful annoyance.

George rolled his eyes, finally looking up from his journal.

'What is it Wilbur? What's so gravelly important that you require my immediate attention?' George replied sarcastically, looking at Wilbur, who was now leaning against one of the trees with crossed arms.

Wilbur scoffed in return, pushing off from the tree and heading towards George, who made no move to get up from where he was sat.

'Your father called you into the throne room. Sounded pretty important, he called for Techno too,' Wilbur said with an easy tone. George groaned and rolled his eyes again. 

'Techno? Really?' George asked, though with no real expectation of an answer. He didn't HATE Techno, he just didn't really like him that much. A clash of professions, if you will. Techno, or Technoblade, which is his official name, was the head knight in their kingdom. He was charged with personal protection of the royal family, which included George. George always suspected that Techno looked down upon him because he choose to be a healer, not a knight like him. It was the joke of their kingdom: 'The king's only son is a healer' people would say, followed by laughter. George didn't care that much, he knew that he was never built for fighting, so why force it? He was quite lucky, he supposed, in that his father even allowed for him to be a healer. He'd heard stories of kings from the neighbouring kingdoms and how they'd force their sons into warfare from the moment they learned to walk.

Wilbur laughed at George's reaction, not surprised by it in the slightest. 

'C'mon, if I don't deliver you to him, he'll have my head,' Wilbur said, tugging on George's arm and lifting him to his feet.

George sighed dramatically, but got up, scrambling to shove all of his jars and his journal into his bag before swinging it over his shoulder. They began the walk back to the castle slowly, but surely, with George dragging his feet and whining about how much he didn't want to go. It earned him a slap on the arm and a 'Shut up already,' from Wilbur.

-

'Yes, Your Majesty, I understand.' Techno says, standing in front of the king with a hand on his sword.

The door to the throne room swings open, letting George walk inside and up, towards his father who was sat at his throne. Upon seeing Technoblade, George scowled, but quickly set his expression back to neutral so that he didn't have to listen to his father lecture him about manners. Technoblade grinned and moved to the side, letting George step up in front of his father.

'What did you need to see me for?' George asked in a bored tone.

'Come now, George. Is that a way to greet your father?' King Sadon asked, drumming his fingers on the end of the throne chair.

George let out a huff of air, 'Fine. Hello, father dearest! How has this fine morning been for you? Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?' George said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and fake excitement, which caused his father to roll his eyes fondly.

'Alright, alright, loose the attitude,' King Sadon continued, getting upout of the throne and walking up towards the window, 'I do have a serious matter to discuss.'

'Which are?' George asked impatiently.

'We will be leaving the kingdom for a couple of days to visit a neighbouring kingdom who I'm hoping to form an alliance with. I would like you to come with me. Since you're to become King someday, you must know your allies. And before you groan, I'm not asking you to do the negotiations, I would simply like for you to accompany me. Once you're there, you can do whatever you like, including studying the flora and fauna of a foreign land as part of your healer studies.' George's father said, turning around to face George and nodding towards his sachel.

George's head spun from such a sudden revelation.

'And who will look after the kingdom whilst both me and you are gone? The garden gnomes?' George asked increduously, raising both of his eyebrows and letting out a strained laugh.

'That's where I come in, Your Highness,' Techno said, putting unnecessary emphasis on George's royal status, 'whilst you are gone, I will look after and protect the kingdom. You have nothing to worry about. As per usual.'

George scoffed, looking over at his father with visible irritability. 

'Fine,' he said coldly, 'at least do me the honour of enlightening me as to which kingdom we are visiting?'

'The one under King Rowan's rule.' His father said carefully, as if Geroge was some kind of frightened animal.

George's eyes grew impossibly wider.

'Are you out of your mind in your old age? You seriously expect King Rowan, as in THE King Rowan, the most skilled, merciless fighter in the 7 Kingdoms, the same King Rowan that forces his own son into his footsteps with no say and trains him into a killing machine, to agree on allyship? Even if he did somehow need our help on something, his impossible ego couldn't bear to ask for it. You're insane father, really.' George rushed out quickly, staring at his father as if he'd spontaneously grown two heads. To his surprise, George's father only chuckled in response.

'Technoblade, if you would.' he said, nodding at Techno, who momentarily turned and walked out of the throne room with a smirk on his face.

'Your obliviousness startles me sometimes,' the King began, 'Darker times are coming, George. He knows that, I know that. If the fae kingdom grow too far out of control, we're all doomed lest we work together. He's not an idiot, George, he knows that this alliance will be mutually beneficial. Our kingdom has the best healers, you included, his kingdom has the best fighters. His son, especially. Have you heard of what he's capable of?' George's father asked with a hint of smugness.

'I don't make a point to keep tabs on killers father, no' George replied with the same, bored tone.

His father chuckled again, 'Perhaps I should explain myself. That boy is the most spectacular warrior I have ever seen. Dare I say, but there's no doubt that, with age, he will outshine even his own father. At 11 year's old, he could shoot with as much percision as some of our finest archers. His sword alone has it's own legacy. The blacksmith that made it makes all of the king's personal weaponry, meaning that the metals he uses are blessed by all the gods of war. He's no ordinary boy, George. Having him on our side will make us virtually invincible.'

George huffed in annoyance. Of course his father jumps at any chance to praise a high skilled warrior. George knows, everyone knows, that, deep down, he'd much rather have a fighter than a healer. Healers are seen as weak, even if that's what thier kingdom is knows for. 

His father continued, 'Imagine this George. The land's best healers and best warriors, all on the same side. In theory, we would be unstopable.'

'You cannot honestly expect me to willingly walk into a kingdom where violence is praised and encourged, where metal is welded solely for the purpose of ending a life. Father, I'm a healer, that goes against every life principle that I've ever had. And that prince- who's to say he's not a maniac? The entire trip screams danger.' George said stubbornly, flailing his arms around for dramatic effect.

His father sighed and rubbed his temples in an effort to compose himself.

'About the prince. Myself and King Rowan agreed that he would be you unofficial bodyguard for the trip. He doesn't feel comfotable with you wandering around his kingdom unsupervised, and I don't feel comfotable with you being alone in foreign land, so we decided that Prince Dream will be your guide and bodyguard whilst we're there. King Rowan assured me that he will be on his best behaviour, so don't start trying to convince me that he will try to slit your throat in your sleep.' his father looked at him sternly, as if to signal that George got no say in this.

'Fine, but if I accidentally wander off and never come back, I'll blame you and your favourite prince for it. I'm only going because I want to study their natural world, not because you're forcing me to.' George stated with finality, before turning around and storming out of the room, leaving his father to heave an exhasperated breath and turn back around to face the window.

-

'It's like he wants me to hate him, Bad, honestly!' George shouted, pacing in circles inside of Bad's little burrow that him, and his best friend, Skeppy, shared. Bad smiled sympathetically from his position on the chair and continued to tie together bundles of dried sage and flowers.

'It's crazy! He's crazy- I- this whole trip is insane. We're really just willingly stepping foot through the gates of hell on earth, for me anyway. Father can't stop talking about prince whatshisname- Dream! Prince Dream. It's like he's been possesed and he's now obsessed with him, honestly, it's infuriating. What, so he can hold a sword? So he can aim better than the average person? Doesn't make him god on earth, does it?' George ranted continuously, finally sitting down in the chair opposite to Bad, who set down the last bundle of dried daisies.

Like George, Bad was a healer, though he specialised in emotional wounds, like grief for a loved one or heartbreak. He was George's go to person when he needed some advice and a place to calm down with a cup of camomille tea. Bad sighed, took down his hood, and went over to get George his regular cup of home-brewed tea, before setting it down in front of him and crossing his arms.

'Okay, before you start to completely loose your mind over it, what are you actually, genuinely scared for on this trip?' Bad asked, raising his brown and tapping on his arm absent-mindly.

George took in a deep breath. What was he afraid of about this? He'd visited other kingdoms before, hell, he'd ran away with Wilbur over to the little village just south of their border when they were younger on his own accord. It took his father 3 whole days to find him, after which George was grounded for 3 whole moons. Maybe it was the fact that this kingdom was feared across the entirety of their realm, or maybe it was because Technoblade, of all people, is being left to govern over their kingdom when they're gone, or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that George would be stuck side by side next to a prince who deemed a cold, sharp, chunk of metal as his best friend.

'I don't know, Bad, you know how much I hate war and fighting- those are the very foundations on which King Rowan stands on. I already get laughed at by our people for being a royal healer- what will they say in the kingdom of the greatest warriors history has ever seen?' George asked, his tone growing sadder and sadder with every syllable.

Bad reached out a hand to touch George's shoulder comfortingly. 

'That's understandable, but, remeber, you're the greatest healer in our kingdom. You've practically brought people back from the dead before- you cannot belittle your worth and your achievements. Yes, that kingdom is full of people who know how to use a sword accurately, but do they know the difference between clear quartz and rose quartz? Would they be able to lay a spell as powerfully and skillfully as you? Remember that, as warriors, they need healers. Where would they be had we not been by their side to patch up any tiny scratch that they get? Don't let anyone make you a laughing stock for your craft and skill, George. Learn to know your self worth.' Bad's voice was soft and gentle as always, never raising above the steady rhythm that George had grown accustommed to.

'Here,' Bad said, reaching over into the small cabinet above his head and pulling out a small pendant with a stone woven into it. It was mostly a light, caramel coloured brown with a few darker brown strips bleeding their way through it. 

'Tiger's eye?' George asked, surprised. You couldn't find this stone in their kingdom, or any of the neighbouring ones. Tiger's eye was native to they fae realm, for it was considered too powerful for humans to have an abundance of. Tiger's eye has amazing grounding properties, along with protection, courage and strength. Bad must've gone really far out out his way to get even a small piece of it, the fae weren't known for liking to give out tiger's eye.

'How did you even get this? It's so rare,' George asked, with genuine curiosity.

'Skeppy gave me it as a gift for my birthday a couple years back, to this day, he won't tell me how he got it, so I gave up asking,' Bad says, smiling fondly, 'I figured that you need it more than me right now. Cleanse it and charge it before your trip and it'll keep you safe and level-headed.'

George beamed at Bad, whispering a silent 'thank you' and tucking it into his pocket, away from sight.

He may not want to go to this foreign land, but he can't do much against his father's command. All that he can do is hope for the best.

2.6k words! 

I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but, if at any point you feel that there should've been a trigger warning, and I didn't put one, let me know. As I said, constructive critiscism is always welcomed here :)


	5. Noble Violence

It was around midday when they arrived to the castle; the sun was a blaring white spot in the sky amidst the otherwise clear blue. When they passed the tiny villages along the borders of the two kingdoms, the people were only just beginning to emerge from their little straw huts and cottages. The sheep were being herded onto the sunny hill tops, and the cries of roosters that sat atop the squat little fences were echoing throughout the fields of green crops. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky- it was crystalline and perfect.

Both George and his father travelled on horses, stopping at a little inn off the side of the road for the night before setting out again in the morning, before the sun had even risen. Despite them being royalty, both George and his father insisted on travelling this way, which was unheard of amongst such high class people. When they'd arrived at King Rowan's royal stables, George had to have a private word with the stablehand to ensure that his horse was cared for properly. Cassius was George's personal horse- not one of the ones that the royal family kept specifically for travel. George's mother gifted him Cassius on his 15th birthday, when George accomplished his initial studies to become a healer. From then on, he cherished Cassius like he did with no one else, making sure to always be the one to clear out his stable and feed him. He didn't let any of the stablehands even lay hand on him, that's how special Cassius was to him.

They were greeted by one of the castle's many servants, and were both lead into the throne room. As they were walking around the castle, George caught a small glimpse of two figures outside on the lawn, fighting. From what little George could see, there appeared to be one boy with dark hair, much like his own, and another boy with lighter, dirty blonde hair. George leaned towards the window to get a closer look. One of them, the blonde one, held a sword- tall and razor-sharp, while the other one held a Halberd*. George quirked an eyebrow in question and continued watching the two. The brunette swung his weapon at his opponent, who swiftly ducked underneath it before raising his sword and swinging it at his rival, who barely managed to block the attack by using the wooden handle of his weapon to act as a barrier between his face and the sword.

George scoffed and whispered 'barbarians,' under his breath, turning around to face his father and the servant who were looking at him impatiently. George smiled sheepishly and continued to follow the servant, who had brought them to the ornate gates of the throne room.

When the guards at either side opened the doors and announced their arrival, George and his father stepped in. George looked around, drinking in every tiny detail of this room. Unlike the throne room of his castle, this one was full of light that poored in from the large, rounded windows at either side of the main seating area. The carpet beneath and in front of them was a deep, crimson red, almost like a river of blood that lead straight up to the royal family. At the very top of the pointed ceiling hung a large, iron chandelier, full of snowy, white candles that were currently unlit. The walls were carved with intricate shapes and spirals, but they were sparcely placed in a way that allowed the open, negative space breathe. As George's eyes finished scanning the room, they landed on the figure stood directly in front of them- King Rowan. Behind the king hung a large tapestry with their family crest- a lion. It was stunning, to be truthful. George had heard stories as a child of the family with the crest of a lion and their countless achievements.

'Your Majesty, King Sadon and Prince George have arrived.' announced the guard next to George. King Rowan nodded at him and his eyes fell on his guests, specifically on George.

'King Sadon, how was your trip?' The man asked, stepping down to greet them.

George's father nodded kindly and replied with, 'Tiring, as usual.'. King Rowan smiled understandingly and sighed, turning his attention to George.

'Prince George, I've heard so much about your abilities.' He said, leaning slightly to the side.

'I've heard my fair share about your legacy too, Your Majesty,' George said easily, the title feeling foreign on his tongue, since he never had to call his father that.

'Is it true that you are the best healer of your kingdom?' King Rowan asked inquisitively.

'That's correct,' George's father chimed in, slapping his back proudly, 'I've never seen someone with as much skill as my boy.'

George smiled awkwardly, 'he's exagerating, really.'

'Don't be shy, Prince George, I've heard some extraordinary stories about you,' King Rowan observed, 'if you are as good as they say, perhaps you can cure that son of mine of his unbearable attitude.' he added, laughing at his own remark.

George chuckled uncomfortably- he hadn't even met this prince yet, and his image of him wasn't spectacular already.

'I suppose I shouldn't keep you weary travellers much longer. The servants will lead you up to your bedrooms and bring your belongings. They'll also inform you when it is time for supper. My son will be there, too, I hope that he and yourself get along fine.' King Rowan stated, looking at George for the last part of his sentence. George nodded and turned around to leave, though not before bowing to the king.

On his way to his bedroom, George passed that very same window through which he saw the two boys fighting. He couldn't help but look out of it again to see if the two were still there. To his disappointment, all he saw were a couple of discarded weapons lying idly on the grass. George guessed that they were simply some of the guards that lived inside of the castle that were training- this wasn't uncommon in the slightest. From what George saw, they both looked fairly young, therefor they couldn't be knights. Especially the blonde boy- he had the agility that only the young warriors have. Yet still, George shuddered at the image of the two, with their swords and fighting. With their violance.

-

'Please, Dream, for the love of God just behave yourself tonight,'

Dream heaved a hefty sigh at his father's words. He's been giving him a lecture for the past 5 minutes while they wait for their beloved guests to arrive and, quite frankly, Dream is sick of it. His father is acting as though he's never interracted with another human being before. Nonethless, he nodded, solely for the purpose of making his father shut up and leave him be. He can behave. He's not a rabid animal that needs to be kept on a leash. Besides, it's just a dinner. He probably won't even have to talk that much.

He looked at the food piled on the table. Dishes of potatoes, carrots, peas, different sauces and wide arrangements of cheeses and meats were piled onto the very centre, with delicate cutlery set around it. Goblets of wine stood next to the plates, glistening in dark vermillion under the candle light. To them, this was the usual, though even Dream had to admit that the cooks outdid themselves this time around. The doors to the dining room opened, allowing their guests inside. Dream looked towards the door, startled by the sudden sound. King Sadon and his son walked in, greeting Dream's father and pulling out the chairs to sit down. Dream had seen King Sadon before, only very briefly when he was younger, but he had never seen his son, the prince. Dream squinted his eyes slightly, trying to get a better look at him in the dull lighting.

In all honesty, the prince seemed to be dressed in more of a peasant's style that a royal one. Though Dream had no doubt that his clothes were made out of the finest cloths, he couldn't get past the fact that they looked so simple, compared to Dream's clothes anyway. It seemed to be just a regular white cotton shirt, though the lacing at the top was undone. Dream couldn't see the lower half of his body, but he assumed that he wore simple brais*. He focused his attention back onto his face, studying it. In the warm lighting, he looked more tan than what he assumed the prince actually was. He had delicate freckles on his nose and cheeks, highlighting the sharpness of his cheekbones and brows. His eyes weren't on Dream, but from this angle he could see the deep brown, almost black, colour of his irises, and how they were accented by long, thick eyelashes that cast a gentle shadow onto his face. Throughout Dream's inspectation, the prince's head was turned to the side, listening to Dream's father talk about something that Dream hinself had no interest in. At this angle, Dream could see the definition of his jawline that was surprisingly smooth.

Reluctantly, Dream tore his attention away from the prince's face to look down at his neck, specifically at the brown stone tied around it on a thin, black string. It glinted at him, causing him to completely turn his attention to his own father, who only just now got around to introducing them.

'King Sadon, Prince George, this is my son, Dream,' his father said, looking at Dream with feigned pride, 'Dream, this is King Sadon, and his son, Prince George.'

Only now had George turned his attention to the prince who was sat across from him. His eyes widened in surprise and he froze on the spot. His eyes zoomed in on the shaggy, brown-blonde hair, the same hair that he'd seen on the lawn.

'I saw you,' George said, causing Dream's attention to switch back onto the prince who's name he now knew was George, 'you were fighting on the lawn today with that other boy.' his voice held unexpected venom, as though Dream had done something to personally offend him.

Dream nodded slowly, unsure as to how to reply.

'Yes, I was training outside.' Dream observed, as though this was ground-breaking information.

King Sadon chuckled uneasily at the interaction, trying to switch the topic with 'I've heard so much about you, Dream. Your fighting capabilities outstand the constrictions of your age, though I do suppose that that's to be expected when your father is the most renown knight in all of the 7 kingdoms.'

Dream smiled at the praise- it was surprisingly rare that he got praised on his skills, with his father being so constantly strict.

'Thank you, Your Majesty.' Dream commented, looking back at Prince George as though his eyes felt compelled to look at him, 'I've heard a lot about you, Prince George, and your noble career.' Dream said, smiling warmly at the man sitting across from him.

'It's certainly more noble than yours,' George remarked, letting a small smirk grace his face. Dream's eyebows raised at the comment. In his father's request, he had been nice to his guests, but since one of them decided not to reciprocate his manner, Dream wasn't going to either. Dream now smiled coldly at the person sitting across from him, twirling a steak knife between his fingers.

'Why, yes, nobility clearly lies with those who read enchantments at rocks for a living. I suppose that protecting your kingdom against enemies is considered rather dishonourable these days.' Dream stated callously, lifting his eyes from the table to stare at George.

'You hurt others in order to earn your status. Don't talk to me about honour if your honour stems from violence.' George's voice was tense with anger.

'Well someone has to do the dirty work so that people such as yourself can prance around the forest collecting weeds and mushrooms.' Dream commented, his tone dripping with poison.

'Dream, enough.' King Rowan uttered fiercely, staring at his son who had fire burning in his eyes, drowning out the usual, clear green.

'I do not prance,' George breathed out, putting emphasis on every word, 'I help people. I heal them. You are a murderer, no matter how beloved.'

Before Dream could even begin to answer, George stood up, hitting the table on accident in his hurry.

'Your Majesty, if you don't mind, I'm going to go out for some fresh air.' George said, turning to face King Rowan, who's face was stoic with rage. Before he even got an answer, George turned around and left the dining room, wandering through the castle that was dark, save for a few scattered candles.

In the dining room, Dream leaned back against the chair, looking pointedly at his plate. He heard someone clear thier voice, before he felt the vibrations of a chair scraping along the cobbled floor and the door shutting once again, leaving him and his father alone.

'I asked you to behave.' his father said flatly, his voice dangerously even.

'It wasn't my fault,' Dream defended, still focusing his eyes on the plate in front of him, 'if he wants to insult me and what I do, I'll insult him back. How am I to blame for his childish behaviour?'

Dream heard his father exhale a deep breath- his method of collecting himself.

'Dream. I don't think you understand the importance of this alliance. Whether you like it or not, we have to be allied with King Sadon's kingdom. They are valuable, our healers could learn so much from theirs, especially from Prince George. I may not understand why King Sadon allowed him to be a healer, but I can learn to live and appreciate it. And so will you. You and George are going to be together for the next couple of days, so I suggest that you find him and apologise, otherwise you could put out entire kingdom at jeoprady.' His father's voice was a command. One that Dream could not refuse no matter how hard he tried.

-

George leaned against the smooth stone railing of the balcony, breathing in the cool night air and looking up at the black canvas of the night sky. The stars were especially visible tonight, as well as the moon. It was waxing crescent moon. the best phase to start a new beginning. George took in another gulp of air, focusing his eyes on the distant hills that stood out against the night, and then to the little houses in the distance, where the fire from the inside lit them up. George's vision travelled down and onto the courtyard below, where two dogs were chasing eachother around, playfighting.

George closed his eyes and let his mind clear itself of tonight's events- of the ignorant prince, of his father, of everyone. The crispness of the air helped clear the fog of his memory and bring him to some level of peace. His hand reached up to touch the tiger's eye that hung around his throat, resting in the divot between his neck and ribcage. He enclosed the stone in his palm, hissing at how cold it was, and let his thoughts settle into sweet tranquility. How he wished he could just go back home, back to his little clearing in the forest, under the old oak tree.

A small chuckle interrupted his peaceful moment, causing him to jump slightly at the sudden noise. He turned his head, only to be met again with shaggy blonde hair and piercing green eyes.

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haha little cliffhanger :)


	6. The Art of Curiosity

'Pretty necklace,' Dream remarked, leaning against the flat surface of the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and propping himself up by bending one leg against the stone.

George could practically hear the smirk in Dream's voice, which caused him to roll his eyes and slump further against the railing. He stayed silent, just to spite Dream and partially because he knew that if he opened his mouth, a new set of insults would roll off his tongue like a second language. He heard footsteps as Dream pushed himself off the wall and walked up to him, resting on the railing next to him.

'Look. Can we just get along for a couple of days?' Dream asked, not turning his head towards George to talk to him.

Silence.

'We're stuck together until you leave, and I'd really prefer it if we didn't fight the whole time.' Dream tried again, this time turning his head to face George.

Silence.

'Or you could just not talk to me... I guess that works too.' Dream said, though this time his voice was quieter, more subtle, but attentive. Fine, if he doesn't want to play nice, Dream won't either.

George took in a deep breath again, letting the silence settle between them, letting it seep into his skin, feeling it run in his veins before it settled in his bones. Silence. It was somehow comforting, even if George felt the intense burning of dislike in his gut. They stayed together on the balcony, looking out towards the horizon, not saying a word. 

'I'm not a murderer, you know.' Dream mummbled in a subdued spirit.

George turned his head to look at the boy next to him. His skin was fair and even, not a blemish in sight. His eyes reflected the sky, George could see the litle flecks of white from the stars and the slender white highlight of the crescent moon that rested on his pupil. He was young. Maybe even younger than George, and yet he fought as if he'd been in a million wars. Perhaps he has, but not in physical wars. Wars inside his head, where the enemy remained the same time and time again. George looked down at Dream's hands. They were scarred. Pale, thin little scars ran up and down his fingers and his palm, though they were barely noticeable.

'Father hates it, says it makes me weak. What kind of a warrior am I if I cannot finish the job?' he chuckled sarcastically, rubbing his palms together. George looked back down at his own hands. They were smaller than Dream's, more delicate. And unscarred. 

'You're not weak.' George said calmly, 'you're trapped. Caged. Like a bird.'

Dream laughed again, his voice growing more distant.

'A bird in a golden cage, that's me.' he muttered, tipping his head down and letting his hair drop over his eyes.

'Break free.' George says quietly, barely raising his voice above a whisper.

'Goodnight, Prince George.' 

And with that, Dream stands up and pads back into the castle, leaving George alone in the now deafening silence.

-

When the sun began to rise, the sky was a deep red, with occasional slithers of orange highlights that cut through the sea of scarlet. The animals remained asleep in their burrows, snoring dreamily in the comfort of their homes. The whole kingdom slept drowsily, savouring the last, parting kisses of their dream world. And despite the luring haze of rest, Dream was awake. He stood outside on the surprisingly dry grass barefoot, holding an intricately carved bow (with his own carving of a smiley face) and swinging a quiver over his shoulder, adjusting it so that it layed comfortably in the divot of his back. Shooting required quietetude, something that was very scarce for Dream. It required accuracy, percision, which in turn required a level head. The fog was still cast like a heavy blanket over the streets and houses, but that made it better, in a way. It blurred the unimportant details of life and allowed Dream to steady his breathing an focus on the painted target in front of him.

Archery was his form of escapism. When things got too much, the only was that he was able to calm himself was with careful, calculated shots. After yesterday, this was exactly what he needed. No noise, no unessesary distractions, just him, the taught string of a bow, and the glistening metal head of the arrow. Perfect.

He took a deep breath, letting the morning air fill his lungs and consume him inside out. His eyes narrowed, letting his eyelashes brush the skin of his cheek and focused purely on the enticing red circle of the target. He let his body become one with his bow, he could feel the heat of his palm where he warmed the wood of the handle, further helping him imagine that the bow was connected to him, was part of him. He guided the head of the arrow in line to the target, squinting his eyes further to ensure that it was all perfect. He quickly checked his posture. Straight elbows, straight knees, shoulders relaxed, feet shoulder width apart and facing the direction of where he wanted to shoot. He closed his eyes, imagining the route of the arrow in his imagination. He began to exhale and loosen his grip and-

Glass clattered to the ground.

Dream turned his head sharply, unaware that he'd let go of the arrow or where it hit. 

'Good morning.' George said cheerfully, scratching the back of his head and leaning down to collect the several glass jars full of god-knows-what off of the floor. Dream let out an irritated groan, turning his head to look back at the target. His arrow was centimetres off of the bullseye.

'You made me miss.' he seethed, walking up to the target and retrieveing his arrow.

'Did I? Or are you just using that to cover up your awful archery skills?' George had developed a sly smirk on his face, still trying to collect everything that he dropped without so much as a glance in Dream's direction.

'You dropped your- what is that? On purpose.' Dream stated confidently, sitting down on the ground to examine his bow as if he'd never seen it before.

'Don't flatter yourself, Your Highness, not all of us have your godly grace. And that is white sage.' George finally rose from the floor, carefully putting all the jars back inside his bag, smiling at Dream sarcastically.

Dream scoffed in response, rolling his eyes and standing up too. He couldn't help but notice that the other prince was so much shorter than him. By a whole head, at least.

'What are you doing up so early?' Dream asked, changing the subject rather quickly.

'Why do you want to know?' George's tone was uninterested, but teasing.

'Do I have to have a reason?' Dream's tone matched George's.

'How do I know that you're not planning on tracking my every move, and this is how you begin your psychotic plan?' George raised an eyebrow, adjusting the bag on his shoulder.

'It's almost sweet that you think your existance holds that much meaning to me.' Dream's replies were quick, George wasn't used to this.

'My existance is merely coincidental with your psychoticism.' Game on, George thought.

'It flatters me that your opinion of me is so high.' Dream smirked in response.

'Not as high as your ego, unfortunantly. Awfully confident, aren't you?' George pretended to look at his hand as if there was something wrong with it, to feign nonchalance.

'I can have every person in this castle at my mercy before they even realise that I'm there. It's funny, but skills like that tend to do wonders for a person's self confidence.' Dream replied, looking straight at George.

'I'd love to see you try to do so much as come near me,' George challanged, matching Dream's stare.

'Of course you'd love that.' Dream replied, walking back towards the castle, his archery session long forgotten.

'What's that supposed to mean?' George shouted after him, but got no reply. He huffed in annoyance. Dream made his blood boil.

-

'You're 10 minutes late.' Sapnap said increduously, looking at Dream as he paced towards him.

'And? Who are you? My father?' Dream replied, his tone menacing. Sapnap raised his eyebrows in surprise, walking to catch up with Dream as he sped walked towards the edge of the forest.

'Are you okay?' Sapnap asked, a little breathlessly from having to run to catch up with Dream's annoyingly large footsteps. Sometimes, Sapnap despised him for having long legs

Dream stopped in his tracks once they entered the forest and walked a fair bit inside, so that they were out of sight. He sighed deeply, letting his shoulders slump. He turned to face his best friend who had a look of pure concern on his face.

'Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you.' Dream apologised, reaching up to rub his temples while squeezing his eyes shut.

'Hey, don't worry about it. What happened?' Sapnap's voice was even, calming. They continued to walk through the forest.

'George- oh, sorry, His Royal Highness, Prince George, happened. He infuriates me. Walks around like he owns everyone and everything, like he's a blessing to this earth, and then calls ME egotistical. How does that make sense?' Dream's cheeks were steadily burning up with rage. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Why did George get under his skin so much? Was it funny to George to annoy Dream to the point where he felt like he wanted to wipe George's stupid smirk off of his face with his fist? Perhaps. That's the best answer that Dream had.

Sapnap tried to stifle a laugh in time to reply to Dream, who was making wild hand gestures as he spoke.

'Maybe you're just annoyed because you've found someone to match your quick wit.' Sapnap offered, jumping over a log deftly. 

Dream rolled his eyes. That made no sense. Sapnap was just messing around with him.

'No. I hate him. Because he's an annoying, arrogant asshole.' Dream stated blankly, slashing a nearby bush with his sword out of anger.

'Okay, okay, whatever you say.' Sapnap said, raising his hands in self defence. From their years and years of friendship, Sapnap knew better than to push Dream when he was in this mood.

-

George sat cross legged on the bed in his room, balancing a pot of ink against his thigh and a book with brown parchment paper on his knee. His quill ran over the paper in quick succession, scribling down all his thought on the paper that was adressed to Bad. It's almost like George's hands were possessed, writing quicker than he could think, to the point where some of the sentences swam together into a big, jumbled heap of looping, angry words all directed towards or about Dream.

He couldn't help it. He couldn't stand him. The mere sight of his supid, ugly face and his dumb green eyes that looked like beautiful leaves in bright sunli-no.

George caught himself very quickly. No. His eyes looked like bogeys and vomit. They were disgustingly normal eyes. George was just having an off day, so that's why he got confused, obviously. God, Dream was getting under his skin a little more than he liked. That's what he finshed off the letter to Bad with, before sealing it with wax and his family emblem- a raven. As soon as that was done, he got off his bed, that was absurdly large, and headed towards the messenger hut just outside of the palace. It was specially reserved for royal matters, which was clearly this. As he got there, he realised that he forgot to put the place of delivery on the front of it. Sighing at his own stupidity, George leaned against the wall of the little hut and began scribbling down the address.

Until he heard a chuckle behind him.

A very familiar chuckle.

'Who are you sending a letter to?' Dream asked, wiping his sword on his pants hastily. They were both covered with mud.

'I see that you make a point to constantly know what I'm doing,' George said, not turning around to face Dream in favour of finishing his letter, 'doesn't really help your whole 'I don't care about your existance' act.'

Dream scoffed and tipped his head back to laugh.

'Well, maybe you're spying on me and delivering private secrets to our enemies, who knows.' Dream was still laughing, even harder now.

This time, it was George's turn to scoff.

'Oh yeah? What secrets? That the world renown Prince Dream is, in fact, a gigantic piece of donkey poo?' George asked, laughing at his own joke and Dream's sour face.

Dream surged closer to George within seconds, invading his private space so much so that George could see the tiny details of his face. Like the small scar that got lost in his hair line, or the slightly darker ring of green that surrounded Dream's otherwise even eyes, or the barely noticeable ridge in his nose, but the most noticeable part were the worry lines etched into his forehead. They were far more prominant on Dream than anyone of his age that George had ever seen. What has this boy been through?

George's breath stilled, dying on his lips as Dream stayed there in the same spot, so close to him and yet not touching.

'Watch your mouth, little healer.' Dream's voice was smooth, like silk. It was even, but quiet. So very quiet that George had to strain his ears in order to hear what he was saying. He kind of wished that he didn't hear, now that he thought about it.

George gulped.

He slowly lifted his eyes to meet Dream's vengeful stare, and then he snapped. With as much force as he could muster, he put his hands between them, square on Dream's chest, and pushed. Dream was taken aback, stumbling back several steps before regaining his footing and raising his head to catch George as he sped walked back into the castle, letter long forgotten on the shelf of the messenger hut.

Dream smirked to himself, picking up his sword and heading into the little shack. He reached out and took the letter, smoothing his fingers over the thick paper and staring at the scruffy writing. It was adressed to somone called 'Bad', but that had no significance to Dream, so he slipped the letter into the pocket of his robe and headed into the castle after George with a smile on his face.

2.4k words

FINALLY, I've been dying for some spice so here we are.


	7. Letters of Disdain

'Tommy, slow down.' breathed a hurried voice, running across the wooded area like there's no tommorow, stopping only momentarily to tug on the lead in his hand and looking back at the small brown cow trotting happily behind him. He stopped slowly, folding in half and gulping in air as he tried to regain his breath.

'Tubbo, come on, we don't have much time before they notice we're gone.' Tommy shouted, a few metres ahead of Tubbo with a jagged, makeshift wooden sword clasped tightly in his palm. Tubbo made a noise of frustration and lifted his head, running after Tommy with the tiny brown blob of furry happiness on his heels. Tommy ran even further ahead, jumping over a fallen log before moving it to the side so that Tubbo and his cow could get past it easier. Nobody said that running franticlly through a forest is easy, but, somehow, it was proving even more difficult than both Tommy and Tubbo had planned for.

'I think there's a clearing up ahead,' Tommy shouted to Tubbo, who was still behind him, 'it'll be easier once we get there.' 

Tubbo smiled tiredly and looked at his second closest friend standing next to him, reaching her head down for a small bite of grass from the forest floor. Tubbo chuckled and pet her neck affectionately, causing the small golden bell to ring around her neck, startling her. 

'Come on, Bee, just a little more and then we can rest.' Tubbo whispered reassuringly, tugging on the green lead that he made himself when he was 13, especially for Bee. He ran up to Tommy, who was already on the edge of the forest, waiting for him.

'Look, there's a barn up on that hill. We can sneak in and spend the night there. No one will find us there. In the morning, we can move out again.' Tommy muttered, turning to look at Tubbo, who was looking at Bee as she rubbed her head against him lovingly.

'Okay, maybe there will be some hay and water for Bee.' Tubbo mumbled back, matching Tommy's concerned stare.

By the time the sun had set, they'd managed to successfully sneak into the small barn and hide behind a wall of hay blocks, like a makeshift barrier. They moved a few blocks of hay to make themselves beds and Tubbo pulled out a few blankets from the bag that hung on his shoulders, passing the red one to Tommy because it was ever so slightly warmer, and Tommy's favourite colour. Tommy smiled in return, covering his hay block in the blanket and sitting down onto it, leaving his sword on the ground next to his bag.

Tubbo sat across from him, pulling out small pieces from his hay block and feeding them to Bee, who was lying next to him. As Bee chewed happily, Tommy began to search his own bag for food too, hungry after running through an entire forest. He handed Tubbo two apples and took out a small loaf of bread with an even smaller portion of cheese. Bee lifted her head curiously at the rustle coming from Tommy's bag and Tubbo took that as an opportunity to cuddle up next to Bee, resting his head on the crease between her neck and shoulder, folding his legs at an angle so that Bee could rest her head comfortably on his thighs. Tommy began to rip up the bread and cheese, handing Tubbo his half and taking one of the apples.

They ate in near silence, apart from Bee's occasional loud huff when Tubbo wouldn't give her a bite of his apple, both too exhausted to talk and ready for sleep. The barn was completely dark, only a small slither of moonlight creeping in from the crack between the two barn doors. Tubbo fell asleep first, his head still resting against Bee, who wrapped her head almost protectively over Tubbo, nearly covering his entire body. Tommy smiled tiredly, covering them both as best as he could in the blanket before falling asleep himself on his hay block, sword in hand.

-

The doors to the cabinet opened dramatically, allowing King Sadon to walk in, his robe dragging on the floor slightly. King Rowan was waiting for him near a large, round table with a detailed map rolled out before him, showing the layout to the kingdoms. King Sadon walked closer, peering over at the map and the various technical drawings that covered it.

'My scouts returned yesterday from the borders of Queen Sophia's kingdom,' King Rowan began in a somber tone, clenching his fists to the point where his knuckles turned white, 'the fae are becoming more secretive. The villages on the outskirts of the fae realm were completely vacant. The scouts think that they're all being gathered together in the main castle.'

King Sadon pursed his lips into a thin line, sighing heavily.

'We need to come up with safety precautions now, for the sake of everyone. The fae are too strong, we need to get other kingdoms on our side.' King Rowan nodded his head in agreement, still leaning over the table with worry etched on his face.

'Queen Sophia has agreed to allyship with us, her kingdom specialises in technical magic and that is incredibly helpful if her tactics and ideas are joined with your soldiers and knights.' King Sadon reasoned, pointing at the are of the map that represented one of their ally's kingdoms.

'That's not enough. We need the merpeople on our side if we want to even begin to prepare for a possible war.' King Rowan squeezed his eyes in stress, gripping the table in a vice-like hold.

'King Tritan is stubbornly neutral, you know as well as I do that it would take a blessing from the gods to get him on our side.' King Sadon argued quietly, looking at the map as if it would suddenly give him the answer that he is so desperately looking for.

'But his daughter, Princess Niki, if we sway her into allyship I'm sure that she'll be able to convince her father to join us.' King Rowan's eyes lit up in blooming curiosity at the possible way out of their predicament. With the help of the mer-kingdom, they'd be able to protect and attack with the element of surprise, since the fae wouldn't expect this paticulatr alliance.

'We need to talk to her as soon as possible. It's atleast 3 days travel on horseback, and we need to allow time for negotiations and other inconveniences.' King Sadon began to write down a rough plan for the preperation, whilst King Rowan knitted his eyebrows in thought.

'The mer people won't listen to any ordinary messenger of ours, they won't trust that interaction. We need to send someone they'd trust and agree to meet with.' King Sadon looked up from his writing to stare questioningly at his fellow ruler, lifting a curious eyebrow.

'Who do you propose we send?' he asked.

'I think our sons should go together,' King Rowan explained tentatively, 'it'd be good bonding experience for them, as well as an educational one. The mer people would trust them, since they're both princes, and I know that my son, at least, has been taught how to handle royal negotiations.'

King Sadon tipped his head to the side in thought. Their sons argued the first time they met, and generally didn't seem to get on, so he doubted that either of them would jump at the thought of having to spend six or more whole days with only each other for company, but King Rowan's preposition was logical. He knew that neither Prince would sacrifice their kingdom because of such a petty reason. Prince Dream would be able to protect them if anything went wrong, and George's knowledge of healing magic and nature would be helpful on the journey if they got lost or injured. 

King Sadon nodded his head in agreement, smiling assuringly at the other King before turning to leave the room. 

George really wasn't going to enjoy his next talk with his father, and Dream wouldn't either.

-

Meanwhile, far away from the castle and deep in the forest, amidst the sea of lush greenery and bustling wildlife, George had just found the perfect spot. It was a tiny clearing with a small birch tree stood to the left of it. He smiled and walked up to it, settling down just underneath it and letting his books, jars and delicate, little vials spill out onto the floor next to him. This was no where near as good as his old oak tree at home, but this would do. The sun was hiding behind thick blankets of clouds, meaning that it wasn't too cold or too warm or too humid, the perfect neutral weather for attuning yourself to a new environment and meditation.

George settled comfortably with his back towards the tree and closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet fresh air and slowly relaxing his limbs, letting the stress seep out of him through his shoulders, then into his arms, and out of his fingertips into the ground. He focused on relaxing his mind completely, letting the stormy seas of his thoughts settle into tender tranquility- into a still, quiet pond, instead of a rumbling black sea. He felt his legs loose their tension, and felt his forehead relax from it's current, worried state that he hadn't even noticed prior to now. He then focused on his breathing, courting it into an anchored, balanced rhythm before shifting his focus again.

Now that he was fully relaxed, and his mind was quiet and free from life's cruel labours, he allowed himself to soak in his surroundings. His mentor had taught him how to use hearing in order to attune himself to the tiny details, to be able to strip back layers of the obvious loud sounds and really focus on the hidden gems behind it, like the chicks up in the nest above his head that shuffled around in the twigs, no doubt waiting for their mother to come feed them, or the wind as it tickled the leaves of the trees around him in soft, caressing whispers and forgotten whispered thoughts of nature. He could hear a barely audible dog bark in the distance, and an even fainter hoot of an owl that sounded like it was only a couple weeks old. He listened for the soft rustle fo the stream that he saw on the way here, focusing his mind on the way that the water would glide over each stone, shaping it with tender touches. It was peaceful, listening to your surroundings in such detail- it helped George to absorb the energy of the new place to be able to utalise it in his studies.

George opened his eyes, reaching into his bag for his spell jar that he made before leaving that warded off negative energy. It contained a few bay leaves, mugwort, a small cluster of charged amethyst, sea salt, cloves, rosemary, camomile and pepper- all perfect ingredients to ward of any negativity that came towards him. He put both palms around it and closed his eyes, once again falling into a peaceful silence. He concentrated on the intention behind the jar, mentally envisioning it in action and attuning his energy towards it. He was so used to only meditating in his own spot in the woods, that this new experience felt overwhelmingly alien to him, but, nevertheless, he continued to direct his focus towards his intention for his goal.

-

Dream stood in the middle of his bedroom, holding George's mysterious letter in his hands, flipping it between his fingers relentlessly, but not being able to push himself to open it. He had no loyalty to George that would stop him from opening the letter, and, clearly it wasn't all that important if George forgot about it so quickly and still hadn't remembered it.

But still, Dream cringed at the idea of opening it. He didn't think of himself as a creepy person that liked to invade other people's privacy by reading their private letters. But this letter was written by George, which made it so much more appealing to steal, to open, to know what private things he wrote down so that Dream could tease him about it, no other reason, of course. But it's still someone else's letter, and Dream would be invading George's privacy, which would make George hate him even more than he already does....but, on the other hand, George didn't have to know that Dream took his letter. Dream was a good liar, so it wouldn't bee too hard for him to pretend like he didn't know if the letter was sent or where it went.

Yes, that's a good idea.

Dream breathed out harshly and turned the letter to the side with the seal on it. A raven. George's family crest. Dream's fingers touched the edges of the seal tenderly, sliding over the blue hardened wax with eager curiosity. Dream closed his eyes and ripped the seal in one swift, languid motion. No going back now. He unfolded the sharp folds of the paper and let his eyes swim over the writing. George's handwriting is so messy, Dream thought.

His eyes travelled to the first line, reading over the words and feeling them bleed into his brain, forever logging them there. Dream read over the first line multiple times. All it read was:

'Prince Dream is pathetic.'

2.2k words :)


	8. Touch My Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- this chapter contains a pretty graphic description of something resembling a panic/anxiety attack, so read at your own risk. I will point out where in the scene starts and ends and will also give a brief, less descriptive version of events at the end so that, incase you skipped it, it still makes sense <3

When the two boys got a messege telling them that they need to meet thier fathers in the throne room urgently, neither of them suspected anything close to what they were about to be told. George took his time getting there, cleansing a couple of crystals and sorting out a few vials that got mixed together without labels in his bag. He walked slowly, leisurely almost, to the throne room, not being particularly eager to see anyone, especially not Dream.

Dream, on the other hand, instantly complied and began to make his way to the throne room, despite having been mid training session with Sapnap, who whined childishly at Dream for leaving Sapnap to carry all the weapons back into the weapon room. Dream laughed hastily, and quickened his pace even more, not wanting to anger his father because he was late. His mind had managed to make up dozens of disastererous scenarios in his head of what his father was going to tell him. It seemed pretty important, since George and his father were also going to be present.

When he finally got to the throne room, he was sweaty and nervous from having to run all the way from the woods to the main part of the castle and in all of that time letting his thoughts run wild. His hands were shaking slightly, but he tried to cover it up by folding his arms over his chest to fake confidence. His father hadn't even looked at him when he'd arrived, too busy studying a map that Dream had been forced to study so many times that he could now easily name and plot every point on it with his eyes closed. Drean slouched against the cold stone wall and took a minute to steady his brething, so as not to look like he was about to faint from nerves and exhaustion.

Ten minutes had passed, and George was still nowhere to be seen. Dream grew steadily more irritated as he counted the time in his head, cursing George for being late. The contents of the letter that he'd read that morning were swirling in his head like a menacing whirlpool, cementing each comment into Dream's head and making him wince on impact. It was silly, Dream thought to himself as he continued to wait, how much George's opinion of him mattered. Someone that Dream disliked so deeply should not be able to affect Dream's opinion of himself so strongly. But it did. And it hurt.

Finally, the doors opened and George waltzed in, as if he is not comically late and getting on everyone's nerves. Dream's teeth grinded together in annoyance and George walked closer to him, smiling inncoently as though nothing had ever happened. Granted, George did not know that Dream had read his letter, but still.

'How nice of you to join us, George.' King Sadon mocked sarcastically, glaring at his son who returned him a sheepish smile. That annoyed Dream even more- his lack of responsibility. His fists clenched at his sides involunatrily, turning his knuckles into a painful white and leaving his palms with stinging indents of crescent moons left behind by his nails that were currently pressing into his skin.

'Now that the princess has arrived,' Dream spat, throwing George a scowl, 'can you tell us what's going on?' Dream turned his head in the direction of his father, who finally lifted his head to stare at him.

George, on the other hand, turned his face away from Dream, pretending to have missed the small comment.

King Rowan chuckled uneasily, clasping his hands together in front of him.

'Well, as you know, the fae are growing more and more dangerous,' he began, walking slowly around the room, 'and, in order to ensure our safety, we must seek allyship with other kingdoms.'

Dream and George both nodded their heads, scrunching their eyebrows in confusion.

'However, in order to secure those allies, we must negotiate with them. Myself and King Rowan are in charge of our own respective kingdoms, therefor we cannot often travel far beyond the border, it is far too dangerous.' King Sadon continued, using his hands to try and better explain the picture.

'You two, however, are young and agile, and, as members of the royal family, trusted. Both of you are to become kings some day, therefor you need to start pulling your weight in terms of helping the kingdom. Dream, you are an excellent fighter, one of the best that this world has seen. You can protect, attack, stratergise, you're powerful-'

'Alright, we get it, don't blow up his ego any further.' George cut into his father's speech, shooting him a look of irritation. Dream laughed in return, smiking. George's father glared at him for a few seconds before going back to his point.

'As I was saying before I got interrupted,' the king looked directly at George, 'Dream is a very skilled individual. You, George, are too very skilled, but in your own craft. You specialise in healing and nature magic, therefor you'd be able to heal any wounds and easily navigate your way through a natural scene. With the help of Dream's outstanding knowldge of the surroundings of our lands, you two would make quite a good team.'

George raised a suspitious eyebrow, his face turning rapidly sour as the cogs and gears in his head began to turn.

'Why are you mentioning this?' Dream asked tonelessly, projecting his confusion onto his father, as his heart race began to increase.

King Rowan took a deep breath, looking at his son, who began to lean off the wall in preperation for the news.

'We need to form an allyship with the merpeople. They would be immensely helpful in the case of war against the fae, which is becoming more and more inevitable with each passing day. They are very hard to convince, considering that they are not fond of warfare, especially not on land, and King Tritan is notorious for his stubborness. His daughter, Princess Niki, is more likely to be swayed, and her father would trust her opinion more, which would give us a shot at a potential deal.' King Rowan explained, looking at the two boys before him that stood wide-eyed.

'However, Princess Niki will not talk to any oridinary messenger of ours because it is too risky and the merpeople have a tendancy of being skittish, therefor you two must set out together in order to convince the mer people to join our alliance.'

Dream's face visibly drained as the words 'together' left his father's lips. No. No no no no no no no. Dream would rather be captured by the fae and tortured than having to spend a whole week with George, alone, together, in the middle of no-where. George's reaction wasn't much better: his lips parted as if all of the air had been punched out of him in one, swift blow, and his face paled considerably.

'The journey there takes 3 days and the journey back will take the same amount of time if you continue at the same pace. This is urgent, therefor myself and King Sadon have devised you a special route that leads through the Dark Forest because it is the quickest one. You will have to sleep somewhere along the way, because there will be no passing through villages or settlements with inns on your way in order to ensure that you get there as fast as possible. Food, water, and any other essentials will be packed for you as you will go on horseback. You set out tommorow morning, and we expect you back by the end of the week.' King Rowan finished, looking carefully at the two boys who hadn't moved since he first told them about the trip.

\--sensitive content begins--

Dream swallowed thickly, feeling his vision begin to shake out of focus. His breathing had grown shallow and rapid, making him even more dizzy. George turned his head towards Dream, shifting his gaze to Dream's hands that were shaking visibly at his sides. George looked around awkwardly, not knowing what to do or how to answer.

'You're both free to go and pack now, we'll discuss the details before you leave tommorow.' King Sadon murmured uneasily, also looking in Dream's direction, like his son.

George nodded absent mindedly, focusing his attention on Dream, who had begun to shake with his entire body, but his face staying stoic.

'Dream.' George said, grabbing his arm lightly. Dream's head snapped to look at the place of contact, focusing on where George's fingertips were holding his upper arm. He swallowed again, parting his lips, and closed his eyes, forcing his body to go completely still. He thought of a calm lake in the middle of the forest, focused on how the smooth water stayed level and tranquil, not a drop out of place. He brought up the colour of the evergreen forest around the lake, how much it complimented the pale blue of the water that reflected the clear sky. It was quiet. It was safe. Just him and the lake, no one else.

He opened his eyes, wincing slightly at the light, before looking at the three people around him. The two kings were already uninterested in the two, having gone back to lean over the map and discuss strategies in hushed voice, but George was still stood next to him, holding his arm softly and looking up at him. Dream's face was still stony, causing the worry on George's face to increase as Dream continued to peer at him with no reaction, as if he'd suddenly lost all emotion.

Then, suddenly, Dream's demeanor changed, like a quick spark of lightning had struck him out of nowhere, causing him to sudenly jumpstart back into life. With more force than he prehaps meant to, he snatched his arm away from George's warm grip, stumbling back a few steps in the process. George's face grew even more confused than before, if that's possible, and he started to make slow steps towards Dream, who had his back prossed firmly against the wall, holding out his hand while his eyebrows knit together.

Dream flashed a manic gaze at George, turning and running out of the throne room, as far away as his legs would carry him. The world around him blurred together, giving him tunnel vision for the forest up ahead, his safe place. His lungs were burning, like fire was scorching him from the inside, but he didn't care. He willed his legs to run faster, to leave that castle behind him and put him as far away as it was humanely possible. He could feel tears burning their way down his face, leaving hot, wet streaks on his cheeks that blurred his vision even further. As he ran, the wind slapped his face repeatedly, as if it was the weather's job to hurt him today. But he still didn't stop, running even faster now down a hill, and across the field, heading like a bull at a red flag towards the forest. 

The sky began to spit icy water down at him, piercing his skin like thousands of tiny daggers every where at once, Desperately, he covered his face, letting the tears and rain soak the sleeve of his shirt, making it heavy and dull. Dream's whole body felt like it was on fire and in a glacial bath all at once. His mind was racing a million thoughts per second, blending reality and his worst nightmare into the same realm of possibilities, making his head pound, as if someone was using it as a personal punching bag. He was running through the forest now, he could tell as the branches snagged on his clothing, ripping it at awkward places. The rain was less noticeable here, but the wind was ever present, nipping coldly at the exposed skin of his hands and face. His legs carried him on their own- they'd walked this route hundreds of times, he didn't need to look in order to know where he's going.

The pounding in his head grew stronger, causing him to grab it in between his hands and cry harder letting out a gurgled scream in the process, though this time from the agonizing pain that was spreading from his head to his body like an unstable electric current. His hair was now wet and knotted from where he'd tangled his hands into it in total despair, causing him to pull on it out of sheer frustration. He lifted his head, still holding a vice like grip on it and tried hopelessly to focus his vision on the scene in front of him. He was just mere metres away from his little clearing and the small, unsteady shack that him and Sapnap had built. 

His face twisted in searing pain again, as another wave of dull aches swam through his body, causing his stomach to churn uneasily. He swollowed again, begging his legs just to carry him a little further so that he wasn't left on the uneven, dirty floor of the forest. He stumbled forward, feeling the rain and wind grow more intense in their battle against him, and pushed through, breaking into a sprint again with the last reserves of his energy, feeling his body on the impending edge of giving out. He was almost there, just a little more-

His feet fumbled below him. His world began to spin all over again as his body dropped on the floor with a disgusting thump, causing him to roll on the wet surface of the grass straight into the middle of the clearing, where the rain from up above poored on his exhausted body, soaking it to the bone. Dream didn't have any energy left in him to get up, not even to crawl of the wooden shack and sit under a roof with the blankets that Sapnap put there last winter. No, he stayed on the flooded grass, lying on his side and slowly bringing his knees up towards his chest and his head in his arms to lock himself in a small universe of his own, to calm himself. A growing pain vibrated from his wrist, and now his head, but he didn't care. He clasped his hands over his head, and began rocking back and forth, unable to do much else. 

His breathing wasn't calming, it was growing briskly and becoming shallower and shallower by the second, causing him to feel nauseous and suffocated. But he can't leave his little space. No. He'd rather stay confined in his own limbs, suffocating on the humid air and feeling as his stomach tensed in warning. He felt nothing and everything at the same time. The world was moving too quickly, not giving him time to breathe in between each stage, no time to think, to process. So he's staying here. Where no one will bother him about anything. Where he's safe.

'Dream?'

\--sensitive content ends--

Brief summary: When the news of their trip is told, Dream begins having an anxiety attack. Niether George nor Dream's fathers notice Dream's strange behavious, but George does. He touches Dream's arm, causing Dream to snap and run out of the room. He runs towards the forest in the rain, towards his and Sapnap's training place. When he gets there, he's too tired to even walk, so he curls up in the middle of the clearing under the rain until someone says 'Dream?'

2.6k words :) 

lmao don't murder me for the cliffhanger


	9. A Helping Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild TW- this chapter is a continuation of the events of the last chapter with Dream's panic/anxiety attack, so there may be some sensitive content at the start. As always, I'll point it out and leave a summary at the end. <3

-sensitive content begins-

'Dream?'

Dream didn't lift his head, pushing it even deeper into the cage that he's created for himself out of his own arms and legs, hiding away from the world and searching for more body heat due to the relentless rain that continued to cascade on his tense body, drowning him in water and tormenting emotions.

'Dream!' the voice got louder as it moved closer to him, shaking the ground below him with heavy, wet foot steps. Dream began to rock back and forth faster, trying even harder to take himself out of his current state, out of the saturated green field, where he was curled up on the grass, staining his shirt with soil and tears.

Two large arms wrapped around his protectively, shielding his body from the onslaught of rainfall and wind. The tears leaked down his face with more power than before, though he didn't know why, leaving angry, hot trails that burned his skin on their way, leaving Dream to lie there and accept the searing pain sliding menacingly down onto the ground.

-sensitive content ends-

Steadily, and with visible caution, he could feel himself being lifted from the ground, his face no longer lying on scratchy grass, but a comfortable, cotton clad shoulder. A hand was placed over his head, smoothing his hair that was probably sticking out in every direction imaginable, causing Dream to further burrow his nose into the fabric of the person's clothes in search of the warmth and comfort that he'd grown ravenous for.

'Dream, can you stand?' The voice asked quietly, with so much raw concern that Dream wanted to cry even more than before. Dream didn't answer, unsure if his legs had returned into a state where he could actually use them, or if they'd decided to remain limp and useless. He heard a sigh from the person above him, before the arms around him tightened and he was carried somewhere- not far, but out of the reach of the rain and into inviting heat. His frazzled brain couldn't form a coherant thought, so he settled on focusing on his breathing yet again, drinking in cold, fresh air from the outside, that smelled subtly of petrichor, in an attempt to make his lungs function normally.

Dream lifted his eyelids with great difficulty, feeling as though they've suddenly turned into heavy lead, specifically so that he didn't have to see the world as it was right now- bleary, loud, overwhelming. Warm candle light flooded his surroundings, covering him in positive, home-like warmth and making his body begin to relax from its tensed up state. Sapnap stood in front of him, looking down with sorrowful eyes as though this has never happened before. Of course it has, Dream thought, he was just usually better at dealing it in a way that meant no-one but him had to know. And still, Sapnap was supportive as ever, covering Dream in multiple hand-knit blankets and crouching in front of him to make sure that Dream was, in fact, still alive. Sapnap rubbed Dream's blanket clad shoulder tenderly, smiling sadly at Dream's tired face and red, puffy eyes.

'Do you want to talk about it?' he asked, his voice soft, gentle, barely even a whisper, as though Dream was a young, frightened deer and any sudden noises or movements would scare him away. Dream supposed that that analysis seemed fairly reasonable in the current circumstances, with Dream sat in this little shack, shaking and shivering like a leaf with a constant, heavy flow of tears and ragged beathing. He did want to talk about it, so so badly, but he just couldn't bring himself to use his voice, knowing it was probably hoarse and sore from screaming his heart out earlier. But this was his best friend, who was probably worried sick and trying not to show it to not make Dream feel even worse, so Dream had to at least try, for Sapnap's sake, if not his own.

'I-' he tried, feeling out his voice and how his vocal chords trembled under the weight of the topic. He cleared his throat, wincing slightly at the burn he felt when he did, as though someone had taken a grater and used it on the back of his throat, shredding it raw.

'It's okay, take your time.' Sapnap said in a small voice, giving Dream a tiny, reassuring smile.

Dream closed his eyes, taking in a breath for preperation, still trying to take his breathing back to its usual, calm state.

'I- well my-my-father a-and George and-,' he tried again, his voice coming out breathy and uneven, unable to form his thoughts and deliver them to his mouth successfully. God, his head hurt so much, as though his brain was running into the confinements of his skull repeatedly and at full force, meaning that he couldn't even think straight.

Yet Sapnap's face remained level and calm, as though Dream was talking normally and not as a blubbering mess that he, himself couldn't even understand. Dream wanted to colapse at the patience that Sapnap was expressing towards him. He always knew exactly how to communicate with Dream, even if Dream himself didn't know. 

'They want me to-to....they are pl-planning.' a long silence followed as Dream battled his own brain to be able to say it, to say it out loud. Because saying it out loud makes it real, sets it as a fact instead of a possibility. When it's only in Dream's head, he can ignore it, push it to the back of his head and pretend it's not there. But now he can't.

'They're... they're sending me and George on a trip.' Dream finally rushed out in a single breath, feeling as though his stomach was doing somersaults inside of him. His head felt fuzzy and white noise was flooding his ears, but that didn't matter, so he pushed those aspects far, far away, not in the mood to deal with them right now.

Sapnap's face lifted into a state of acute shock, despite his best efforts to hide it away, and remain a neutral constant for Dream. Now it makes sense, Sapnap thought quietly, to himself, in disbelief. It all makes so, so much sense.

'Dream,' Sapnap started gradually, 'you're going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. I promise.'

Dream laughed indifferently, looking at Sapnap with new, fresh tears glossing his red eyes, making the green stand out impossibly more when a ring of red surrounded them.

'No, it won't.' Dream laughed, with a deathly tone of finality. 

'You know just as well as I do what happened last time I tagged along on one of these trips, Sapnap. You know what that did to me. You know better than any person in this world why I haven't been out of the kingdom since that time. Don't pretend everything is going to be okay, because it won't. Don't lie to me to get me into a false sense of security.' Dreams voice trembled again with angry desperation, breaking at every other syllable in an attempt to make the point clear both to Sapnap, and to himself.

Sapnap's face fell again, unable to battle Dream's point because it was true. It was very, scarily true. And Sapnap couldn't sit here and lie to his best friend's face because, deep down, he knew that Dream was right, and that made him feel useless. He knew that he couldn't do anything if Dream's father had already decided his fate for him, so he just sat there, gazing at Dream with defeated acceptance.

Dream's face was on the brink of hysteria, looking at Sapnap with wild, sad eyes, unable to calm down the fear coursing through his body at the mere thought of this god forsaken trip.

'Dream, I realise that this is not what you want to hear, but I hope that what I say sticks in your head,' Sapnap looked at the floor, not wanting to see Dream's questioning look, 'that happened a long time ago, okay? It doesn't change the fact that it happened, and it doesn't mean that you should forget and move on from it, but it happened when you were a child, when you couldn't do anything to-'

'Stop it. Stop talking about it. I don't want to think about it, not again, not right now. I can't.' Dream cut him off harshly, but with his voice breaking towards the last sentence, opening a new floodgate of emotions that Dream had nearly managed to stuff away. He couldn't hear what Sapnap had to say, not right now. His brain physically couldn't cope with even more things being piled onto it. He knew that what Sapnap said made perfect sense, that it was wise, and smart, and probably very helpful, but it wasn't the right time. Right now, all he wanted to do was go to sleep, to close his eyes and float away for a few peaceful hours, where all his problems became insignificant and dissipated into nothingness. 

Sapnap fell into a heavy silence, not looking a Dream but keeping his hand on his shoulder, as if to say, 'It's okay, I get it'. Dream took in a breath of relief before standing up, motioning to him and Sapnap that they should probably head back to the castle before it got too dark. Sapnap stood up with him, glaring at Dream as he removed the blankets from his shoulders.

'I'm not letting you walk all the way back in a soaking, cold shirt, so I suggest that you put that blanket back on your shoulders unless you want me to tie it around you so that you can't get out of it.' Sapnap stated, lifting an eyebrow when Dream chucked at his best friend's antics before falling back into a somber silence, his thoughts flying away into their own world, where life was easier and less painful.

-

The sun had barely risen, just peeking the crown of its head over the green hills in the horizon, preparing to wake up the animals and humans of the domain. The wind lay dormant, not yet wanting to rise and begin its restless day of carrying hushed whispers for miles and miles around, still snoozing happily in the nooks and crannies of hills and trees. 

The doors of the barn opened, letting a strange mixture of orange light and subtle darkness pour in onto the cobbled floor, uncovering the secrets of the night with steady revelation. A man walked in, still rubbing tiredness out of his eyes and yawning profusely, refusing to fully accept the arrival of a new morning for another couple of minutes. Shuffling footsteps scurried over the floor as the man reached over for his unusual striped, green farmer's hat and old, worn out fork that he'd always used to deliver hay to his animals. 

Soft, barely audible snores echoed through the small space, making the man quickly turn around and squint his eyes at the suspicious fort of hay blocks covering the right corner of the barn that he hadn't yet payed any attention to. Gingerly, with feather light footsteps and armed with a dull pitchfork in his hands, the farmer moved closer and closer to that side of the barn, listening out extra carefully for any noises that might come up. 

When he finally reached the makeshift barrier, he carefully lifted his head over the edge, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the picture in front of him. One of the boys, dressed in a tattered, worn out red shirt was sleeping comfortably under a matching red blanket, sword clutched in hand and face screwed up in his sleep as if he was in pain. Across from him, another boy, but dressed in slightly neater, green attire, curled around a small brown cow with a blanket covering them and several apples lying discarded on the dirty floor. The cow appeared to be sleeping too, nuzzling its head into the hand of the brunet boy, who recipricated with stroking the top of the cow's fluffy ears absent-mindedly.

Sighing, the man lifted his pitchfork and walked around to the other side of the wall, taking a minute to see if the boys possesed any more weapons, which they did not. With the blunt end of his pitch fork, the farmer poked the shoulder of the blond boy, standing back a couple feet to make sure that he doesn't accidentally swing for him in self defence. The boy sleeping on the hay bale grunted, but turned his head, leisurely opening his eyes to see a tall, blond man staring down at him in confusion. Immediately, once his brain managed to register the events, he jumped up from his sleeping position, sword ready in his hand.

'H-he-hello... God this is awakard- hi. I'm sorry this looks- well it doesn't look very good- of course it doesn't you've just found us snaking into your barn, but I can explain!' Tommy whisper yelled, stumbling over his words in an effort to get them out as fast as he could. The other man simply withdrew his pitchfork, standing it next to him comfortably. 

'We didn't steal anything- I promise! You can- you- here you can- damn it...' Tommy rambled on, reaching for his and Tubbo's bags simultaneously, causing one of them to fall and clang to the floor loudly, 'You can check our bags and- and we- please we didn't mean any harm, please just let us leave and we won't bother you again.' Tommy's heart rate was picking up rapidly, making his heart rattle sporadically in his ribcage, like a trapped bird. 

Tubbo and Bee were still oblivious as ever, sleeping soundly on the floor next to eachother.

The farmer chuckled, leaning onto the wooden wall next to him.

'Who are you and what are you doing here?' he asked quietly, not wanting to wake up the other boy. 

Tommy's face had grown into a light red colour, reflecting his nervousness, and his palms were sweating so much that he could feel the sword begin to slide out of his palm.

'Ah, yes, sorry, I'm Tommy, that's my friend, Tubbo, and that's his cow.' Tommy said plainly, as if that information suddenly made the whole situation make sense.

The farmer nodded dumbly, waiting for the rest of the answer.

Tommy laughed uncomfortably, looking over at Tubbo and praying that he'd wake up so that he could explain their situation, but, instead, Tubbo yawned in his sleep and turned away from them, shuffling his face into the blanket.

'We're um- we....well- the thing is we...uh' Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, unable to decide what to tell this man.

'We're just travelling towards the castle, and we didn't have anywhere to stop by for the night, until we saw your barn and- we promise we'll leave as soon as possible and we won't be a bother.' Tommy smiled in hopes of convinving the farmer, but to no avail.

'You look like you've been in 3 fights along the way, and both of you look far too young to be travelling on your own.' The man said suspiciously, though with a friendly tone of parent-like concern.

Tommy sighed in defeat, lowering his head towards the ground.

'Look, my name is Philza, though most people call me Phil, I'm not going to hurt either of you, and I'm not angry that you slept in my barn. I'm just concerned as to why you're here and why you're going to the castle. Where are your guys' parents?' the man, Phil, asked, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his head conversationally.

Tommy began to fidget with his hands, growing more and more guilty due to this stranger's unprovoked kindness. 

'Me and Tubbo are orphans. We ran away from an orphanage in the neighbouring kingdom. We're heading towards the castle in hopes of me becoming a soldier in the king's army, I've heard that they're looking for recruits. I was going to go alone, but Tubbo didn't let me. So, now we're here.' Tommy explained slowly, lifting his head to look at Phil, who was nodding his head understandingly.

Phil strained his neck, looking over to the bags in Tommy's hands analysingly. 

'The trip from here to the castle is at least a 6 day walk. You don't have enough food for 2 days, let alone 6.' he observed, leaning against the wall again.

Tommy's face twisted in unease, looking back and forth from the floor and to the man.

'We don't have any money, so we'll have to make it last.' Tommy gritted out, wrapping his hand around the bag tighter. 

'Tell you what,' Phil said, smiling comfortingly at the younger boy in front of him, 'There's no way that I'm letting either of you starve, and, worse, get attacked by wolves somewhere in the forest in the middle of the night, so I'll help you out. I need workers for my farm anyway, and, if you agree to help, I will provide you with food, shelter and a small wage. When you earn enough money, you will be free to leave.'

Tommy's face instantly lit up, beaming at Phil. He dropped the bags to the floor, running over to Tubbo, who was starting to grumble at the noise. Tommy shook his shoulder, shivering with excitement himself, desperately trying to wake up his best friend to tell him the amazing news. 

'What- Tommy? Is everything okay?' Tubbo's voice was nervous and raspy, still tired from yesterday. As his eyes opened up more, they fell on the tall figure in the corner, causing him to jerk back against Bee, who lifted her head curiously. 

'Tubbo! He's letting us stay! He said we can work on his farm, Tubbo, we can earn money and make a life for ourselves.' Tommy rushed out, his voice loud and confusing to Tubbo, who's half awake brain was trying to scramble together some meaning to Tommy's words.

'Meet me outside when you guys have finished talking,' Phil said, grabbing his pitchfork, 'my name's Phil, by the way.' he looked at Tubbo, giving him a small, gentle smile before walking outside.   
'Now, explain everything, slowly, and in detail, please.' Tubbo murmurmed, letting his head fall back against Bee, causing her to huff loudly and reach her neck for the small piece of hay sticking out of one of the hay bales.

-

'George, hurry up, or you'll be late, again.' King Sadon said flatly, walking next to his son who was rushing down the hill, two bags in each hand and a journal stuck in between his teeth. The sun was beating down at the top of his head, causing him to curse mentally as he felt the sweat already beginning to pool at the bottom of his spine even though he'd only been outside for a couple short minutes. 

At the bottom of the hill stood Dream, King Rowan and another brunet that George didn't know. George wracked his brain quickly, trying to come up for an answer as to who it was talking to Dream in a hushed whisper, rubbing his hand on his shoulder, but he came up blank. George rolled his eyes, gripping his bag tighter to ensure that it didn't slide out of his grip.

'Dream, just please keep safe, okay? And don't doubt yourself, if anything happens, which it won't, you're the best fighter we've got and you can defend yourself better than anyone I know. I love you, man' Sapnap wispered quietly, so that only Dream would hear, before wrapping him in a bone crushing hug, wrapping his arms over the tops of Dream's shoulders and burrying his head into his clothes, feeling Dream do the same, gripping into Sapnap's shirt with an angry grip. 

'Dream, if you're done with hugging your boyfriend, I'd like to leave at some point today.' George shouted from a couple feet away, already sat on his horse, securing his bags and making sure that his stirrups were the right length and the girth not too tight, before patting Cassius on his nick and twisting his body to look over at Dream and the other boy, both of whom were throwing daggers at him. If looks could kill, George would currently be six feet under ground, but, luckily, they don't, so George merely smiled sweetly and turned back around, waiting impatiently for Dream to climb onto his black stallion. 

Sapnap looked up at Dream with a reassuring smile before walking away, leaving the two princes alone with their fathers. 

'You both know what to do, you both have maps with the routes set on them, so, in theory, you're ready to go.' King Sadon stated, almost cheerfully. Dream exchanaged a serious glance with his father, knowing from the many years of silent communication, it meant 'don't mess this up', so Dream nodded at his father, tapping the hilt oh his sword twice to signal that he understood what his father said.

'Good luck.' King Rowan finally announced, sending the boys on their way with an iron gaze and a stiff wave at their leaving forms.

-

summary of sensitive content: the voice grew more concerned, until the person ran up and hugged Dream, shielding his away from the rain.

phew, 3.6k words because this chapter was slightly delayed. 

Also I was watching Ranboo's subathon stream whilst writing this, so can we hype up Ranboo in the comments because we're all so proud of him? :)


	10. Astral Fate

It had grown steadily colder throughout the day as they travelled, with the sun moving behind thick, grey clouds and letting the heat from the light die down, leaving a comfortable, cool tone to lay on the land. The wind became dormant, quiet, setting an uneasy silence between the two travellers as they moved further and further away from their home lands. In any other circumstance, perhaps the silence would've been pleasant- acting as an opportunity to listen to the surroundings, to focus the mind, but, in this circumstance, the silence acted like a heavy overthrow, blanketing the two in an awkward agreement not to bother eachother.

They'd only been travelling for a couple hours, and in all those hours they hadn't said a single word to eachother, too busy drowning in their own intrusive thoughts to gather enough energy to try and begin a conversation. Dream couldn't get the letter out of his head, and George's remarks throughout the days had crawled under his skin, becoming an incessant nuisance in his mind. He knew that, realistically, they'd had to talk at some point- they couldn't just stay quiet for the entire week, but he pushed that thought to the back of his head, not willing to be the first one to talk. George, on the other hand, was full of questions. Questions he intended to get answers on. The biggest one was to do with Dream's reacting in the throne room yesterday- what was so bad that Dream had reacted in such a way as if he'd been told that his entire family had been sentenced to execution?

'He has such a layer of mystery to him.' George thought, as Cassius dipped his head down to catch a tiny patch of grass, chewing contently as he continued his journey. It was true, Dream's existance was somewhat a mystery in itself, since King Rowan was never married and the announcement that Dream was the new prince was months after he was born. Rumors in George's kingdom said that Dream was born out of wedlock, to a peasant woman who was later executed for the suppposed use of black magic, though that aspect was still unconfirmed. From what little George knew about him, he knew that Dream had an intense childhood. King Rowan did not allow any festivities in his kingdom, and it was generally very rare for any guests to be invited into their land. Unlike George, Dream must have grown up in a very conservative environment, considering that his father was such an ominous person.

To some degree, George felt sympathy towards him. George was a free child, his father would mostly allow him to do anything he wanted, as long as it didn't include hurting anyone or himself. He remembers when him and Wilbur would sneak into the town closest to the castle and participate in the vibrant festivals, full of food, dancing and folk stories. His favourite festival was the one in honour of the meteor showers that they got every 2 or 3 years- the towns people would decorate the town squre with ribbons of midnight blue and the children would paint bright, yellow stars on their doors and windows. At nightfall, they'd gather at the hill opposite to the town and sit in the warm summer air, gazing at the blazing rocks as they made their way down, painting the sky in shades of fiery red and burnt orange. 

He remembers seeing the young couples, wrapped up in blankets and leaning into eachother, whispering soft nothings into eachothers ears with the stars twinkling in their eyes. He remembers the old woman who lived in the town, too, who'd tell children old folk stories and myths that got tangled in history.

George's favourite story from her was about two lovers, who'd angered the gods when they refused to sacrifice eachother for the life of their king, causing the gods to punish them by turning them against eachother, putting curses upon them that prevented them from ever saying a kind word to the one they loved most in the world. The lovers could never come close to eachother again, could never fulfil their heart's desire. It was cruel, George thought, even as a child, that someone had the power to take away something so meaningful, so fast, but nothing could be done if fate had set out their destiny. It is said that, when the two lovers died, in seperate graves and on seperate days, their souls merged in the sky, creating a beautiful constellation that appears differently to everyone. Everyone but the person that fate had decided was right for you. The old woman had said that you'll know you found love when the same constellation reflects in your lover's eyes as the one you see when you look up at the sky. 

Since then, George had looked up at the lover's constellation every time at the meteor festival, wondering if it was true that such love existed that defied gods even in death. He supposed that it was fine to dream, to hope, but whether dreams and hopes came true or not was yet to be revealed.

-

As nightfall approached, they'd come to a slow stop at the edge of a forest, settling behind the fallen trunk of a tree. George had tied Cassius up on the tree next to him loosely, letting his graze on the grass leisurely as the sun began to set behind him. Dream's horse had moved next to Cassius, bringing his head down and grabbing grass carefully too, lifting his head once in a while at a noise that came from the woods. They still hadn't spoken, pretending to be busy with setting up where they would sleep for the night and dealing with their horses. George sat on the blanket that he'd gotten out of his bag, resting his back against the side of the tree trunk. Dream was sat opposite his, fiddling with the tie of his bag to try and undo it.  
'Pull it through underneath.' George said, his voice tired and worn out even though he had kept quiet all day.

Dream lifted his head to look at George, then flicked his eyes back down to do as George said. To his surprise, it worked, the knot came undone and Dream was able to open his bag, staring inside.

'I would've figured it out on my own.' Dream retorted dissmissively, taking out a bottle of water.

'Was just trying to help.' George returned, somewhat taken back by Dream's tone.

'Oh yeah, of course you were, because I'm so pathetic, right? Can't do anything on my own.' Dream scoffed, throwing his bag down next to him, not making eye contact with George.

'What?' George lifted his head from where it was resting on the bark behind him, face twisting with confusion.

'You heard me.' Dream's tone was stern.

'Yes, I did, I'm trying to figure out what you're talking about, idiot.' George's comeback was quick and precise. 

Dream laughed in return, turning his head to look at the setting sun, specifically at the clouds that were beginning to cover it again, making the colours of the sunset blend together.

'You know what I'm talking about, don't play dumb.' 

George scoffed in return, eyeing Dream's face for any clues. When he didn't find anything, he fell quiet, shifting his gaze to look at Cassius, who stood idly next to the tree. Dream turned his head at the lack of response, looking at George with a piercing, expectant glare. 

'What?' George asked again, this time with a tone of annoyance, 'Mind reading isn't in my list of capabilities.'

Dream rolled his eyes, growing consistently more irritated at George's feigned innocence.

'Since when do you have to be a mind reader to know what you, yourself have written?' Dream's voice oozed sarcasm, hitting George square in the chest.

'How do you- what?' George's mind raced for answers.

'Don't leave your letters lying around, especially in the presence of the one they're about.' Dream's head fell back to expose his throat, letting George catch a glimse of the end of a scar that travelled below his shirt. 

'What letter?' George enquired dumbly, focusing all his attention on Dream with wide, questioning eyes.

Dream's expression became bitter. 

'Oh come on, you're really more dumb than I thought.' George recoiled at the remark.

Seeing that George's facial expression still hadn't changed, Dream rolled his eyes again, pulling out the letter from his bag, the seal on it clearly ripped.

'Wha- that's my letter! I was driving myself insane trying to figure out where it had gone.' George's voice had quickly grown to sound infuriated, glaring at the letter in disbelief. 

'My letters are private, you know.' George added, voice trembling with irate nervousness.

'It's not so private when you leave it forgotten and unsupervised.' Dream protested, looking back at George increduously. Surely he knows not to leave personal thing such as letters lying around? Dream had learned very early on to hide everything that was personal and not let it out of his sight, he assumed that was the norm. 

'You had no right to read it- it wasn't written for you!' George seethed, his face a livid red.

'I can do as I please in my own kingdom.' Dream said, his expression going back to content and calm.

'You're so infuriating- you cannot just assume that you're allowed to do everything because you're the prince.' George argued back.

'Can't I? Who's there to stop me?' A smirk had graced Dream's face.

'Your ego is unbearable- it's common sense! Something you clearly lack.' His voice was exhasperated, disbelieving. 

'I'm the egotistical one? Have you heard yourself speak? You walk around as if you're entitled to the world- as if everyone should drop to their feet and worship you. You have no sense of responsibilty- of what consequences are- and you think you have the right to call me egotistical?' Dream was laughing at this situation- how was George so incredibly clueless?  
'You're the one who thinks you're better than anyone else. Just because you know how to use a sword doesn't mean you should dismiss the abilities of everyone else around you. You're not a god, no matter how much you think of yourself as one.' George's tone rose to a near shout, making the two horses whip their heads around to look at what was going on.

'Compared to you, I do seem like a god. All you know are a few spells that anyone could learn if they looked into a book, while I can fight off an entire band of thieves with just my hands. What would you do if you got attacked? Throw a crystal at them?' Dream's body was inching forward, his chest rising as he spoke.

George let out a forced laugh, his chest tense and tight like a drum.

'It's all about violence with you, isn't it? The world isn't a never ending loop of fighting and war- there are other aspects. Love, kindness, generosity- you don't know any of those things. I may not be able to wield a sword, but I can help people not loose their loved ones, I can help them find love, I can bring them happiness and prosperity. What can you do? All you have to offer is brutality. What kind of a 'god' does that make you?'

Dream's expression fell for a split second, showing a tiny slither of hurt, but he quickly collected himself, returning to his usual, neutral facade.

'I'm going to get fire wood.' he stated calmly, picking himself up effortlessly and disappearing behind the treeline, leaving George to sit against the trunk in stunned silence, watching the figure of Dream's body grow smaller and smaller as he walked further inside the wooded area.

-

He returned an hour later. It was completely dark, and George had began to worry that Dream got lost in the woods or, worse, attacked by hungry animals. His face looked preplexed, but George didn't say anything, watching wordlessly as Dream set to work on creating a fire. It was impressive, George had to admit, the speed with which Dream was able to start a fire using a flint and steel. When George had tried it, he would sit there for at least half an hour with mere sparks, but it only took Dream two solid hits the the items on top of eachother before the spark jumped onto the small pile of dry grass and leaves that George had scrambled together. 

As the fire grew, it cast a warm yellow hue onto Dream's face, lighting up his facial features and defining the hallows of his cheeks with deepset shadows. George's gaze fell silently onto Dream's eyes, which were cast down and focused on not letting the fire die. Only in direct lighting could George make out the deep velvet undertones below Dream's eyes. They looked like they'd been there for a while, offsetting the even colouration on Dream's face and bringing his face down, making it slump with weariness and lack of sleep. 

Dream lifted his eyes spontaneously, catching George staring at him. Blood rose to the high points of George's face quicker than he could hide it, making Dream lift a curious brow at George's embarassment before looking back down. George fumbled his hands, trying to reach for one of the books that he'd taken with him to read if he ever got bored. He opened it on the bookmark, forcing his mind to focus on the intricate words and phrases, but to no use. The sentences blurred together, overlapping in George's mind and creating a chaotic cocophony of confusion. George rubbed his eyes, unwilling to give up just yet, and started to actually try and read the contents, concentration etched into his expression.

Dream yawned, leaning back to look at the fire as if he was hypnotized by it, his eyed growing dull and lifeless. The embers at the bottom caught his attention, twinkling in pretty shades of burning crimson below the dancing flame. It was a nice contrast to the clouded sky, which looked boring after the enticing colours of the sunset have ebbed away.

Dream tipped his head back again against the tree, closing his eyes and relishing in the subtle warmth of the fire, letting it envelop him and burn away his prior worries. It was nice, listening to the barely audible sounds of the bustling habitat behind him, listening at the nocturnal animals began to awake, running around to find their prey and just forgetting everything. If he tried really hard, he could almost pretend like he was just sat by the clearing in his forest at home, enjoying scarce tranquility before he had to return to his life at the castle.

-

By the time that the clouds cleared to reveal the moon, perched up at the high point of the sky, Dream was asleep, leaving George on his own in the darkness of the night. He'd gotten bored by the book, and was full of the bread that they got given for the journey. His eyes started to feel heavy, inviting him to sleep, but his mind was awake and conscious.

Inevitably, his eyes navigated towards Dream, again. It was odd, how much time George spent looking at someone he had a mutual dislike with, but he couldn't help it. Perhaps it is cliche to say, but Dream looked calmer in his sleep, more innocent and childlike than George had ever seen him. His hands were cushioning his head, almost cradling it, as he slept, soft breaths escaping his mouth. His face looked relaxed, the lines on his forehead weren't so prominant and his eyebrows relaxed from their tense state, going to their intended space on his face. His body had gone languid, George could tell from the way that his arm bent around him and the way that his legs fell against eachother. It was nice to see him like this. Not so defensive, not the big, tough, arrogant Prince that George knows. It was mesmerising, to some degree, how much sleep can make someone who is usually so wound up to become so care free in their sleep.

George smiled tiredly, looking over at Cassius to make sure that he was okay before resting his head on his blanket and falling asleep too, picturing green puddles on the forest floor, reflecting the supple greenery of the surroundings and sparkling under the sun.

-

'No! Please. Please don't, please.'

George's eyes snapped open instantly, turning his head to look for the source of the noise, heart pounding in his throat.

'Please, no, please! I'm begging you, I'll do anything, please!'

George turned around, his eyes falling on the person sleeping across from him.

'Please, I don't want to be like this. Make it stop, please, make it stop!'

Dream was thrashing around in his sleep, gripping the blanket underneath him with a death-like grip. George rubbed the sleep away from his eyes, willing them to focus in the dark. Dream's eyes were still closed, but he could see the wet trails of tears leaking down his face and onto his clothes. He could see sweat beading at Dream's hairline, droplets running down and mixing im with the tears, creating a wet mess on Dream's cheeks.

'Help me, please. Please don't do this.' 

The veins and tendons on Dream's arms stood out from the sheer force with which he was gripping the blanket, casting a nasty shadow underneath them. 

'Please, please, I don't want to be like this.' Dream's voice had dropped to a quiet pleading, filled with hiccups and sobs. 

George's heart sank a little. What was happening?

Nevertheless, he moved to where Dream was still moving around sporadically. He placed his hand on Dream's shoulder, shaking it as gently as he possibly could so as not to scare Dream when he wakes up. But Dream didn't wake up from that, continuing to shout out and plead with whoever it was he was talking to in his dream. 

'Dream.' George's voice was steady and even, but loud enough to wake soemone up, a direct contrast to Dream's state.

Dream's eyes shot open, moving around nervously before falling on George's face. His shoulders lost their tension, and he fell back against the blanket, breathing heavily and feeling as his chest rose and fell, soaked with sweat. He blinked a few times into the darkness, reaching up with the arm that George wasn't holding to wipe away the mess on his face, making his vision somewhat clearer. 

'What happened?' Dream's voice was hoarse and rough.

'You were having a nightmare.' George stated blankly, only now removing his hand from Dream's shoulder. 

Dream closed his eyes, nostrils flaring as he took deep breaths, calming his racing heart that sounded like it would beat out of his chest at any minute.

George pulled his mouth into a slim line, waiting for Dream to say something. But he didn't.

'Are you okay?' he asked, trying to get Dream to talk to him. 

'Yeah, I'm used to it.' Dream answered unenthusiastically, eyes still closed. 

George smiled at him sadly, starting to get up and head back to his 'bed'.

'Wait,' George turned back around, facing Dream, 'can you, like.... just stay awake for a little while- I just need to- forget it it's fine, don't worry about it.' Dream's face fell with frustration at his own lack of confidence, mentally scolding himself for it.

'Yeah, I'll stay up.' George answered softly, giving Dream a small, reassuring smile. 

For the first few minutes, they sat in silence, looking up at the moon together, waiting for Dream's chest to stop rising and falling so quickly and fall into a balanced rhythm. 

'When I was younger, I got nightmares too.' George mumbled, keeping his eyes on the moon and his voice modulated. 

'My mother used to tell me a story to get me to calm down and fall back asleep,' George continued, 'it was an ancient Greek myth about a centaur, who was an excellent physician and one of the best sons of the Titan Cronos.'

Dream turned his head curiously, giving George a signal to carry on talking.

'The centaur's name was Chiron, and he often meddled with Heracles. On a paticular encounter with Heracles, Chiron shot himself in the leg with a poisonous arrow, causing unbearable agony. But he was half a god, therefor immortal. Chiron was doomed to travel the lands in torturous pain, looking for a cure, but he could not find it. Instead, since he was immortal, he began to help people using his new knowledge of medicine. He beared the burden of his pain all the while helping people. Because of his selflessness, Zeus eventually took pity on him, taking his immortality away and thus killing him. In honour of his deeds, Zeus placed him amongst the stars a the constellation of Saggitarius.'

George's voice was tender and sweet, causing Dream's eyes to start drooping again with sleep. His mind listened to the story as his body sank back into the comfortable position on the ground, falling back asleep before the story was even finished, lulled to sleep by George's voice.

George looked over at Dream when he'd finished, to find that Dream was already asleep, snoring softly with his hair falling over his eyes.

George smiled at the sight, whispering 'Goodnight, Dream' before falling back asleep himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.5k words 
> 
> The story about the constellation is a combination of different accounts of the story that I read on google, so some details may be off because the depictions argued with eachother on some of the aspects. 
> 
> Anyway, even though neither of them are sagittarius, I felt like the story of Chiron fit quite well with the Dream and George in my story.


	11. Tales of Guilt and Cruelty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- this chapter contains strong mentions of childhood trauma and manipulation. Please read at your own risk, but, as always, there will be a short summary at the end and I'll point out the sensitive content.

'They are heading South, towards the coast of Moonmore Sea.' 

The figure chuckled in a sultry manner, smiling at the new information with deadly sin.

'And why would the precious princes be heading there?' the voice inquired, tone rising to feign obliviousness.

'They want to ally with the merpeople, according to my source.' the other person replied, resting their hand on the protruding hilt of their sword.

'Ah,' the voice gasped, a smirk growing on their face 'well we can't have that now, can we?' 

The tone became patronising, mocking. 

The figure rose from their throne, advancing towards the knight before them with a languid pace, circling around the person before them threateningly.

'I think you know what needs to be done, don't you?' the figure wrapped their hand around the fur trimmings at the edges of the knight's cloak, sinking their sharp nails down into the fabric as a clear warning, smirking to themselves whilst the knight shifted under their command uncomfortably. 

The knight nodded curtly, keeping their back stiffly straight, tension evident in every muscle.

'And you remember what happens if you don't obey, right?' the figure moved their head closer to the knight's ear, whispering in a dangerous, honeyed voice. The hairs on the back of the knight's neck rose in unease, sending shocking, cold jitters down their back.

'Yes.' the knight grit out, forcing his tone to stay even so as not to anger the person he was talking to.

'Very well,' the figure moved away, letting the knight breathe in relief, 'you may go.'  
-  
'Wake up.'

George opened his eyes lazily, immediately squinting at the blinding white light of the morning sun and the seemingly deafening sound of chirping birds.

'Get up, we don't have all day.'

George groaned as Dream's face came into view, hovering over George with stern impatience. It reminded George annoyingly of the way that his mother used to wake him up, with no gentleness or space for disagreement.

'A couple more minutes.' George mumbled, already turning his back towards Dream and burying his head into his arms in a poor effort to block out the sunlight.

He heard Dream scoff behind him, followed by shuffling and a disgruntled sound coming from one of the horses. Before his brain could even acknowledge it, George felt something heavy land on top of him, spreading a dull ache of a pain down the side of his leg. George hissed in annoyance, turning his body to look at Dream, who had a content smirk plastered on his face as he skillfully adjusted the bridle on his horse.

Rolling his eyes, George mustered enough energy to get up, not wanting to have another argument with Dream this early in the morning and ruin his mood for the day. The memories of yesterday's late night conversation left the fleeting ghost of a genuine smile on George's face, causing a small cluster of butterflies to bloom in his chest, making him feel warm and giddy. But Dream's pleading in his dream made George's stomach churn in worry, the exact words of Dream's cries burning themselves into his memory and tainting the welcomed pleasantries that followed it.  
With every passing day, George's curiosity grew more and more, spiraling out of control at an alarming rate and making George stumble back at the influx of questions that plagued his thoughts as though his life depended on it.

'We're going through the edge of Dark Forest today, so we have to keep close to each other in case anything happens.' Dream remarked, turning to pick up the bags that were next to him and heaving them onto his black stallion with such ease that George forgot that those bags contained heavy weaponry that Dream's father had insisted on taking incase of an attack.

George nodded dismissively, not giving what Dream had just said much thought.

The Dark Forest was one of the oldest landmarks across the 7 kingdoms, yet travellers always made sure to avoid it on their journey. Stories of beasts and ravenous wolves were told to children from an early age to repel them from going to the forest, though no one really knew what powers the forest guarded, no one was ever brave enough to find out. Some said that the forest was cursed by a crazed wizard eons ago, so that any traveller that entered would lose their sanity to lucid hallucinations of their worst fears, though that was merely a folk story. When George was younger, his mother used to say that the forest had a mind of its own, that it controlled every branch of every tree, that the wind acted as a forcefield around it, that the heart of the forest had never seen the light of day. It used to fascinate George as a child, that there was a place left governed by nature, and only nature, that no one was strong enough to ever uncover the secrets that lay buried beneath age old leaf litter and rain. Though now he merely thought of it as a somewhat interesting fact. 

George stretched his back slowly, pulling his arms above his head as far as his body would allow and feeling the delicious burn of his muscles as the sleep faded away. He took a second to let his face bathe in morning sunlight, feeling the warm caress of each ray of sun on his cheekbones. The air smelled subtly of pine, George's favourite aroma. 

'Are you done sunbathing? We have to go.' Dream's voice drawled behind him, causing annoyance to return to his face and replace the tired smile. 

Without saying a word, George picked up his bags and strode towards Cassius, who was eagerly awaiting his morning pat. George beamed at the sight of his best friend, rubbing his neck lovingly before throwing the bags over him and finally mounting him himself.   
-  
They'd spent the first few hours walking through endless stretches of fields, stopping by a small trough to let their horses drink and graze a little on the surrounding grass, before tugging their heads back up, signaling that they needed to go. 

They had a pleasant silence between them, each lost in their own thoughts about each other, though both of them denied that.

Dream was walking ahead of George by a few metres, staring blankly ahead of him as the thoughts in his mind became more and more intrusive, not letting him gain control over his own head. Amidst all of the fighting between them, and despite the countless insults that they'd thrown at each other, moments like last night were nice, to say the least. Dream let himself smile at the memory of George's slow, sleepy voice, as he recounted a story that he'd probably heard countless times, completely from memory. The gentle drawl of his tone, emphasised by the lack of sleep, coiled in the far corner of Dream's mind, settling itself comfortably, not to be forgotten. Dream couldn't help but agonise over George's amiability at that moment. He could have not woken Dream up. He could've gone back to sleep without so much as a word and left him to strain in the cruel confinements of his own mind, trying to lull himself back to sleep uselessly, but he didn't. Even though Dream had told him every thought he had about him, most of them negative, George stayed up with him, opened up a part of his childhood that was private and intimate and let Dream feel the motherly comfort that he never got. In a way, it was a sacrifice that Dream did not fully understand the generosity of.

George, on the other hand, was shifting on his saddle, racking his mind for any worthy explanation to Dream's nightmares and peculiar reactions. He knew that, realistically, he would never be able to come up with a factual explanation, seeming that he only met Dream a couple days ago. But he couldn't get the questions out of his mind, and they were driving him insane. He'd spent the last hour trying desperately to muster up enough courage to ask Dream what they're about, to know more about the person that he was stuck with for the next week, but fear and cowardice did not let him, putting themselves as an uninvited barrier between George and relieving sanity. He didn't know what he was so afraid of. It's not like Dream was going to kill George for asking, but it still seemed so personal that George questioned if he even dared to ask, whether it'd be disrespectful to. 

But, sometimes, curiosity was stronger than fear.

'Hey, Dream?' George called, kicking Cassius into an effortless trot so that he could catch up to Dream and walk side by side.

Dream turned his head hurriedly, worrying that something had happened, hand instinctively gravitating towards the handle of his sword.

'Oh,' he let out a tense breath when he saw George trotting up next to him, 'yeah?'

'Um...' George was quickly regretting his prior life choices, fumbling his brain to just spit out the question already. 

Dream raised an eyebrow, looking at George expectantly.

'Well... in your dream yesterday, you uh-' George was stuttering over his words as though he was asking Dream to marry him, 'you said something about not wanting to be this way? What did you mean?' George dropped his voice so that it sounded gentle, concerned, but not pushy.

Dream shifted his gaze away from Geroge, looking out towards the Dark forest that was coming into view now that they were over the hill. His lips drew into a thin line, wiping any previous emotion away from his face and setting it into a stony stare. 

'Nothing.' he assured, moving his gaze down towards his hands that were fiddling with the worn leather of the reins.

'I'm not that stupid, Dream.' George explained, looking at Dream with a warning look, telling him that he doesn't believe him in the slightest.

'It's really nothing. Just a bad dream.' he tried again, though his voice broke midway through, giving George the confirmation that he was lying.

'And your reaction to getting told about this trip was nothing too? I saw you running out of the throne room and through the courtyard. I would've followed you, but I couldn't see where you went.' George tried to make his voice gentle again, but desperation was evidently laced in every word. 

'Just drop it, please.' Dream's voice was small, pleading.

'No, I want to know what's wrong with you.' he pushed further, his voice rising by a few octaves to convey his irritation at Dream's answers.

'Nothing is wrong with me, now, please, drop it.' George could tell that he hit a nerve with his wording by the anger in Dream's tone at the word 'wrong'.

'It has to do with the scars on your hands, doesn't it? I know them, they're a side effect of powerful curses.' 

This got Dream's attention, he instantly turned his head to look at George as soon as he started talking, giving George all of the confirmation that he needed. 

'What- I... how do you know?' Dream's face showed such disbelief that George nearly laughed.

'You need to give me more credit, honestly,' George chuckled, staring at Dream with amusement, 'what do you think is in the books I study on a daily basis? I saw the scars on your hands when we were out on the balcony, I just didn't realise they came from a curse until a couple of days ago. Ancient Aztec curses are known to leave visible marks, like scarring.'

Dream's eyes were so wide that George thought they'd pop out at any minute.

'You-what?' it was as though Dream had lost any ability to engage in normal conversation, like his tongue just wouldn't move to form any half decent sentences.

George full on laughed this time, causing Cassius to turn his ears towards George, wondering where the noise was coming from.

'I'm a healer Dream, the best one in my kingdom, it is quite literally my job to identify curses. You acting so surprised at some of my most basic knowledge is almost an insult.' George added, looking at Dream as his brain struggled with interpreting what George had just said.

Silence fell between them again, with George waiting patiently for Dream to get back into functioning order and be able to reply to him, and Dream trying and failing to make sense of what George had said, or rather, just found out about him.

'So, it's no use to lie to me.' George declared, feeling pride swell in his chest. He just caught Dream at a loss for words. It was mesmerising, to some extent.

'I guess not.' Dream agreed, leaning back in his saddle lightly to ease the tension that had built up in his back.

'Promise me that no one but you will ever know about this.' Dream mumbled, a hint of nervousness evident in his tone.

'I promise.' George reassured. 

He intended to keep that promise.

-sensitive content begins-

'I'm sure you've heard how strict my father can be,' Dream started, looking at George to see him nodding slightly, 'he's the best warrior that any of the kingdoms have ever seen. He has a reputation, a legacy to keep up. When I was born, I was forced into that legacy, condemned to live in my father's spotlight as his only child and the heir to the throne. He needed to ensure that I don't taint his reputation, that I keep our family name pure and strong, like he did. So, he made sure that happened in the only way he knew how. He settled me into his footsteps, gave me the same childhood that he had. Instead of playing with other children in the woods, I was training night and day, mastering the technique of warfare. When other children visited the town fair, or the festivals, I was too busy learning how to properly hold a sword, and where to slice it through to end my opponent in the fastest way. I've never been to a fair in my own kingdom, you know. I've been forced to listen to the townspeople boast about the celebrations, but I've never seen them for myself.'

George's face fell into a state of sad understanding, listening quietly as Dream opened up more and more.

'It was working. My father was building his perfect son, moulding every thought I ever had into one that fit his liking, making sure that I was a perfectly synchronised machine. A direct copy of my father, only better. But, when I was 14, I rebelled. There was a beggar that came to the palace, pleading for his son to be saved from execution. His son had gathered a large debt from not paying the new taxes that my father had introduced, so he was sentenced to death. I'd overheard him begging my father for his son's life to be spared, but I knew that my father would never listen to him. So, at night, I snuck into the prison cells and released him, told him to leave the kingdom with his family and not come back if he wanted to live out his life in peace. The next morning, my father had found out what I'd done- one of the guards saw me running out of the prison and reported it to the king. My father was livid, I was scolded for hours, and, no matter what I said, he didn't listen.'

Dream's voice was growing more and more uneven as the story went on, causing George's frown to deepen.

'The next day, he took me on a trip, much like this one, saying that it was merely a way for me to get to know my kingdom. We travelled all the way to the edge of the Dark Forest, but I didn't know that it was the Dark Forest at the time, I was young, naive and clueless. I was foolish in trusting that my father would let this go with merely a few hours of shouting. At the edge of the forest, stood a woman dressed in peasant clothes. We approached her, and I could tell that something was off by the way that she looked at us. My father told me to go and ask her what she was doing at the edge of the forest and, willing to do anything to please my father, I agreed. She didn't say a word as I walked up, merely stretched out her hand. My father had shouted for me to take her hand, not to be afraid. God, I was so stupid. I should've seen that something was very clearly wrong. But, not wanting to anger my father, I took her hand.'

George inhaled a breath, his lungs filling with tension and worry.

'A pain like I'd never felt before spread through my hand, then my arm, then across my chest and down my abdomen, into my legs and to the very tips of my toes. The women started chanting something, though at this point the pain was so excruciating that I couldn't focus on a single word she said. It felt like I was being eaten alive by fire, as though the blood in my veins had turned to molten lava, burning me from the inside out. The pain was especially strong in my palms, like it was concentrating on the tips of my fingers and flowing into the centres of my palms, leaving scorching trails in their way. I don't remember much, my vision quickly turned black with my brain was refusing to process so much torture.'

Dream could feel his eyes brimming with tears as his mind took him back to that day. 

'I woke up in my own bed, back at the castle. My father told me that the woman ensured that what happened would never happen again. After hours and hours in the library, I came across a spell that described the symptoms that I had. It was a curse, an ancient Aztec one, like you said. In short, the women cursed me so that my hands may only cause pain and suffering to others. The spell prevents me from ever acting on my sympathy towards others. My father had completed his quest of making me the perfect soldier, with completely removing any humanity I had left, ensuring that I never took pity on anyone ever again.'

George's throat was tight, burning with the overwhelming need to cry at Dream's words. 

'I later found out that the young man I tried to help was captured at the border, along with his family. Father forced me to watch him and his entire family be executed in front of me as punishment for disobeying his orders.'

-sensitive content ends-

A heavy silence filled the air. Dream stared ahead, not blinking, just focusing his vision on the setting sun as it made its way down the sky. George stared down at his hands, blinking rapidly to try and rid the tears away from his eyes. Guilt crawled under his skin, swirling its way around every muscle in his body and squeezing as tightly as it could. It licked its way up the back of his throat, making his breathing shallow and quiet. It wrapped itself around his heart, coiling in its chambers and settling there, making George slump with the heaviness in his chest. This is the man he called cruel. The one he blamed for violence, for brutality. The man that he'd described as pathetic. 

A tear rolled down his cheek, but he was quick to wipe it away, lifting his head to look at Dream, who was still staring ahead, not moving a muscle.

George tried to say something, tried to use his vocal chords to produce a worthy response, but it was useless. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to say anything at all? How is he expected to react? 

'I'm sorry.' he managed to croak out, his voice weak and feeble. 

'I am too.' Dream's voice grew cold, distant, as though it was no longer Dream talking, but rather an automated response that he'd taken years to perfect. 

-

Summary: Dream tells George about his childhood, more specifically how strict it was because of his father and his expectation of Dream being the perfect soldier. Dream tells the story of how he tried to help a man not be executed for his debt, but his father caught him and tricked him into being cursed by a witch. The curse prevents Dream from ever acting on his sympathy, meaning that he can only ever cause suffering instead of help people. Dream says that his father captured the man again and forced Dream to watch the execution of that man and his family as punishment for Dream disobeying his father's orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.4k words
> 
> School is killing me slowly so I apologise for slow updates, but I'll try make the chapters longer to make up for slow updates :)


	12. Forbidden Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- this chapter contains graphic descriptions of blood and injury, there is a description at the end of the chapter and markers for the sensitive content <3

As the sky grew darker, and the clouds knit together tightly, covering the melancholy pale grey of the fading daylight, the two travellers began moving into the forest, heading deeper and deeper into its lair. It felt as though, with each step, the atmosphere became more ominous, more suffocating, as the icy darkness embraced them with strange welcome. Dream was riding ahead of George, since he had the map, while George walked behind, keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings. He shivered, though he couldn't tell if it was from the subtle drop in temperature or the fact that he felt like there were sinister eyes boring into him from every direction, making his skin crawl from paranoia. Cassius strode forwards, keeping his ears alert, turning his head at every miniscule sound, at every crunch of the dead leaves below his hooves. 

Dream had grown silent again after their uneasy conversation, wordlessly taking lead before George could say anything. His back was stiff, his shoulders locked in a tense position and his head held high, radiating an indomitable effort to remain unmoving. George looked at the moving ground under him, not wanting to feel the familiar feeling of crushing guilt that had been plaguing him ever since Dream had told him. He focused his attention on the sticks that crunched under the weight of Cassius' hooves as he walked forward, listening to the satisfying crack as they broke at awkward angles. The ground was soft, though there was no grass; the mud underneath looked slippery and wet, though it hadn't rained for a few days. 

-

As nightfall approached again, luring behind them in the shape of inevitable danger, they came to a stop, both of them staring wearily at the murky fog ahead of them and the way it distorted the lean bodies of the trees in front of them, blurring their silhouettes beyond recognition into one big haze. 

'We need to find a place to sleep.' Dream said, his voice sounding drained and fatigued from the journey. 

George nodded weakly in response, turning his and Cassius' heads to look at their surroundings. What scarce light there was here was quickly slipping away, which means that they didn't have much time to search for their place to sleep for the night. Somewhere out of the corner of his eye, George saw a tall tree, with a trunk that suggested it was a couple hundred years old, standing in somber exile, away from most of the other vegetation. 

'We can clear a space under that tree over there.' George offered, pointing his reins towards its direction.

Dream shrugged half heartedly, clicking his tongue to signal to his horse that he wanted to move with a gentle kick. With strange unease, his horse crept forward, turning its head side to side and pointing its ears in every possible direction, as though it was listening out for something specifically.

-

They settled somewhat comfortably under the tree, sitting at a safe distance away from each other so as not to make the situation any more uncomfortable than it already was. George was busy with trying to decide what he could give Cassius to eat, since this forest didn't have that much grass and Cassius needed energy for the journey. While George was ruffling in his bag, moving around the books and jars and bottles that clinked together inside, Dream was pacing around the trees, looking as though he lost something. 

George lifted his head irritably, staring at Dream's incessant, repetitive moves with curious frustration.

'What are you looking for?' he asked, staring at Cassius as he tied him up to one of the trees next to them.

'We need firewood.' Dream replied, shooting him a pointed look as though this was obvious.

George huffed in response.

'And? We're in a forest, there's literally a fallen branch to your left.' 

'I can see that, I'm not blind,' Dream raised his head, looking at George as though he was stupid, 'it's wet. They're all wet. We can't use them if they're damp.'

'You don't need to explain that to me, I know how fire works.' George shot back, folding his hands protectively over his chest.

'Really? I thought I'd have to explain what fire is.' Dream retorted, smiling at his own, dumb remark. 

George scoffed, whispering a quiet 'idiot' under his breath before looking at Dream again.

'So?' he asked expectantly.

'So what?' Dream's smile grew, fuelled by the slow annoyance creeping onto George's face. 

'So, what are we going to do, dimwit?' George argued, not understanding how Dream was being so calm in this situation. Maybe he wanted to freeze to death, but George definitely did not.

'I don't know.' Dream said, his voice easy and careless as though it was just a small inconvenience.

'You don't know.' George repeated, his voice questioning if there was a follow up to what Dream just said.

'Yeah, that's what I just said.' Dream had a look of moronic peace on his face. 

'What do you mean you don't know?' George near shouted, his voice naturally rising from the confusion and mild anger.

'Do I need to explain the meaning of 'I don't know' to you? It means that I have no kn-'

'Shut up! This is not funny.' George was becoming rapidly more annoyed with Dream's childish demeano  
r.  
'It is to me.' Dream replied back, his voice light and airy.

'You think it's funny that we are now left in the dark, in the middle of an infamous forest, with no way to warm ourselves?' George exclaimed, his voice conveying his disbelief very clearly.

'Yeah.' Dream's response was so angering that George threw his arms in the air, huffing loudly in livid frustration.

'So we're just going to freeze to death?' George inquired with fake callousness, his tone not playful or amusing, unlike the look on Dream's face.

'Well...' Dream began, smiling at George suggestively.

'Well what? Unless you magically conjure us some dry wood, I don't see how we're making it through the night.'

Dream let out a small laugh, eyeing George with mischief carved into his face.

'Well, if we huddle, we'd probably be warm enough.' the corner of Dream's mouth lifted up, gazing as George's face fell from anger and into flustered shock within seconds. 

'Absolutely not. I'm not going anywhere near you.' George protested, his vowels becoming rushed and broken in his haste to voice his opinion on what Dream had just proposed.

'Fine, then you'll be held responsible for killing both of us.' Dream informed him, walking back to his spot under the tree nonchalantly.

George opened his mouth, prepared to shoot back a snarky remark that would shut Dream up, but nothing came out. Stupidly, he closed his mouth, sinking to the ground in deep thought.

'We're probably going to be fine, right?' he asked, voice now concerned, losing all prior spite.

'Sure.' Dream said, though George knew he was being sarcastic. 

-

The night was proving to be more harsh than George had expected, the cold was seeping into his skin even through his multiple blankets and his clothes, settling in his joints and creating an uncomfortable ache that seemed impossible to get rid of. He was shivering so much what his vision was shaking in front of him, small spasms occasionally seizing his muscles and creating small, painful cramps that left George wincing quietly. It's probably been an hour or two since George last felt his fingers or his toes: now they felt more like burning icicles that were attached to his body. He laid on his side, curling in on himself as much as he could to try and conserve what little body heat he had, determined to keep it secured tightly under the thick layers of wool, but to no avail. 

Dream, who was lying several feet away from him, appeared to be fine, eyes closed peacefully and hands resting under his head. George envied him so much so that he felt himself shiver again at the mere thought of warmth. No. He could last the night by himself, sure, it might not be very pleasant and he felt like he'd about to freeze off some body parts, but that's a small price to pay for the reward of not having to be in such close, intimate proximity with Dream.

Obviously, George couldn't sleep in his current state. His eyes felt sore and like they were begging for rest, but he couldn't sleep when he was shaking every couple of seconds and when any move he made felt like it would be his last. So, he stayed awake, hyper fixating on every sound around him to pass time and to calm down the fear that pooled in his gut. Even something as small and insignificant as a rustle of leaves made George's heart race in pure panic, his mind instantly filling with any and all bad thoughts that he could think of. 

Crunch.

George's head snapped up, rendering his body motionless as he listened.

Shuffling.

Fear began to circulate in his bloodstream, adrenaline making his eyesight slightly blurry. His heart hammered in the confines of his ribcage, feeling as though it was going to leap out at any second. The drumming of his own pulse echoed in his ears, amplifying the sound of his breathing with every passing moment. George strained his ears as much as he could, whilst keeping his head safely under his blanket to avoid having to see if anything was out there.

Silence.

George kept up his defensive position for a couple tense minutes, not letting his guard down in fear of an attack of some kind.   
'This is so stupid.' he whispered, mentally scolding himself for being so cowardly and overthinking some tiny noises that were probably insignificant. In fact, he was half convinced that his frozen brain completely made those noises up. He wasn't thinking straight.

-

Another hour passed. George felt like the cold was spreading from his limbs to the centre of his chest, freezing the blood in his veins and nipping painfully at every fibre in his body. His hands and feet had become so numb with cold that he couldn't feel them anymore, felt like they weren't even attached to his body. He couldn't go on like this, he'd actually, really freeze to death. Surely just sleeping next to Dream wouldn't be that bad, right? It's just out of necessity, not for any other reason. Pure survival. He just didn't want to develop hypothermia, that's all. The monologue in his head was slowly convincing him to end his own struggles, to just get up and move next to Dream and actually be able to sleep. But it's Dream. Sleeping next to him felt strange, alien, forbidden. 'But it's not romantic!' George argued with himself, desperately trying to muster up enough courage to just do it.

'Dream?' George's voice pierced the still silence of the night, loud and clear, save for the subtle chattering of teeth.

No response.

George groaned, cursing Dream's trait of being an abnormally deep sleeper

'Dream?' he tried again, but all he got in return was a mildly confused grunt.

Huffing, George used the remaining energy in his body that hadn't completely frozen over to push himself up and off the ground, trailing his blankets behind him. He stood on unsteady feet, wobbling towards where Dream was resting on his side, head tucked comfortably into the sleeves of his shirt. 

'Dream, wake up.' George pleaded, feeling the fleeting kisses of any kind of warmth as it slid away from his body.

Dream groaned again, opening his eyes slightly to peer up at Georgem who was towering over him.

'Hmm?' Dream mumbled, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes in an effort to understand what was happening.

'Can I sleep next to you? I'm really cold.' George asked, his voice small and shy, refusing to admit that he's having to resort to this.

'Wha- yeah, c'mere.' Dream rolled to the side slightly, exposing a small space next to him on the blanket he was sleeping on.

Reluctantly, George moved down next to him, resting his stiff body on the blanket, feeling the uncomfortable, hard ground beneath him with all of the lumps and bumps of a forest floor. With more difficulty than initially planned, he managed to throw his blankets over them, giving them both an extra layer of insulation against the cold. 

George tried desperately to keep his back rigid, so as not to touch Dream. He was just sleeping. Next to Dream. For warmth. They weren't cuddling. 

Dream however, did not reciprocate George's efforts to keep some form of a gap between them. As soon as George closed his eyes, ready for some long awaited rest, he felt the heat of another body pressing into his back, with arms reaching over his own, effectively locking him in a human cage. 

'What are you doing?!' George whisper-yelled, wriggling around in the confined space of Dream's arms to try and get away.

'If you don't stop moving, we're going to have a problem.' Dream replied calmly, his mouth so close to George's ear that he could hear the drawl of sleep resting on Dream's normal voice, making it hoarse and raspy. 

At that, George instantly stopped moving, his arms and legs becoming languid and motionless as the heat from Dream's body began to envelope George, melting his stiff joints and bringing feeling back into his hands. He felt the warmth roll off of Dream's chest and ooze into his frostbitten muscles, warming him from the inside out and making him close his eyes to savour the feeling.

'You need to be next to me if you want us to stay warm.' Dream continued, tightening his arms around George and pressing him further into his chest.

'I'm only here because I'm cold.' George reminded him, keeping his voice as stern as he could in his sleepy state.

'Of course.' Dream murmured, letting George lean back a little so that he could get comfortable. 

Gingerly, Dream tucked his face into the conjunction between George's neck and shoulder, burying his face in the soft skin and resting there, feeling his eyelashes brush his delicate skin.

'Dream?' George asked, unsure of what to say when you have someone that you barely know tuck their face into your neck.

'My face is cold.' Dream simply replied, uttering the statement against George's skin, feeling as goosebumps arose from where his breath hit George's skin.   
They remained quiet after that, both lying in silence, listening to each other's shallow breaths. 

George didn't know how to feel. His eyes were lusting for sleep, but his mind was racing, keeping him painfully awake. His entire being felt fuzzy and warm, lying here, pressed against Dream, held in place almost protectively by his long arms that looped over his own, resting against George's chest, right under his heart. The space around him smelled of Dream: clean soap, mixed with a hint of pine and something else, something that smelt of subtle, innocent sweetness, like honey. It was an intoxicating smell, wrapping itself around George and blanketing him, making him woozy and delirious, not able to get Dream out of his mind. Only hours ago, they were arguing. Only hours ago, George wanted to punch him square in his stupidly chiseled face. But, now, here he was, unconsciously tilting his head down so that he was completely cocooned by Dream's presence, allowing himself to soften under his touch and become calm and malleable. It went against everything his mind had told him, yet it felt so good. Like this was where he meant to be, where he felt safe and comfortable and protected against everything in the world.

Dream, too, was awake. But a different kind of awake, the one where you're dancing on the edge of sleep, but not quite ready to let go of reality, not quite ready to drift away. The height difference between them made this so much more comical, Dream thought, as George laid pleasantly against him, letting out soft little snores that made Dream feel like he could melt into a puddle right then and there. He felt George's heartbeat beneath his palms, thudding softly. And with every beat, Dream became more content. With every beat, he became more grounded to this moment, lulled into this ecstatic feeling of tangled limbs and soft touches. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. He was never taught to find peace in comfort. He was supposed to find peace in war, in violence, but not in this. Not in the way that George moved his hands in his sleep to rest over Dream's. Not in the way that their legs overlapped over each others under the blankets. Not in the boy that was sleeping soundly next to him. It was forbidden, against the rules that were set out for Dream's existence. But if it was forbidden, why did it feel so right?

-

Growling.

That's the first thing Dream heard when he opened his eyes.

George groaned in his sleep, shuffling against Dream, twisting his features at the sound of the deep, loud noise. 

A warning snarl followed.

Dream slowly reached his hand behind him, tapping the ground as quietly as he could, feeling out for the cold, sharp metal of a blade.

The sound approached; heavy, dull footsteps echoing off the ground.

Dream's fingers reached the familiar handle, wrapping around it tightly and bringing it as smoothly as he could over to him while simultaneously rising from his position on the ground.   
A roaring bark spread through the trees, bouncing off of the hollow trees and echoing around them.

George's eyes shot open, jolting his body into consciousness within seconds.

Bright, yellow eyes met his across the small distance, making George's heart race.

'George, get behind me right now. Slowly.' Dream's voice was tense, but even, and gentle, as though he was talking in the presence of a sleeping child.

Dream's hand was resting on his shoulder, controlling his speed as he rose from the ground as steadily as he could, breathing growing erratic as he confronted the situation before him. He moved behind Dream's figure, pressing his back against the coarse bark of the tree behind them, chest rising and falling spontaneously. 

Dream kept a hand pressed flat against George's chest, pushing his further and further behind him, while his other hand held out a sword in front of them in a defensive stance.  
'Dream?' George's voice quivered, showing the obvious cracks of terror as Dream adjusted his position to one that was prepared to fight. 

'As slowly as you can, move away, towards your horse. When I say go, you get on and get out. As fast as you can.' Dream gritted out inching backwards as the wolf in front of them took a few sure steps forward. 

'I'm not leaving you!' George hissed, leaning forward towards Dream.

'It's not a request.' Dream retorted, keeping his voice level and tranquil, though managing to place heavy emphasis on each word.

'You cannot tell me what to do.' George whispered next to him, pushing against Dream's hand that was digging firmly into his chest.

'It's a lone wolf. He won't chase after you if I stay here, and I can fight it off.' Dream insisted, trying not to let his voice rise so as not to startle the animal in front of them into an attack.

'Can you put aside your ego for one second? You're not invincible, I'm not leaving.' George seethed, becoming increasingly more frustrated with Dream's 'plan'. 

'And I'm not letting you get hurt, so just do as I say.' Dream muttered angrily.

George huffed behind him, making his displeasure known.

'Please.' Dream tried as a final resort, straining his voice into one that sounded pleading and desperate.

'Okay.' George caved in, not able to argue against Dream's tone of voice. 

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, he began to take small steps towards Cassius, making sure not to make any sudden movements. Dream stayed in his position, right in front of the wolf, sword drawn and ready.

Snap.

George looked underneath him, horrified. A twig. A tiny twig. 

The wolf lurched forward, eyes fixated on George, who broke into a frantic run, feet pounding on the ground as he ran through the thick vegetation, feeling as though vines and plants that were not there before were appearing and winding around his ankles, making his legs tangle underneath him. 

He fell onto the hard ground with a heavy thud, instantly twisting his body to look behind him. The wolf pounced on top of him, caging George's body in with sharp claws that dug into his skin. George tried to use his hands to hold off the wolf's snout and menacing canines away from his throat, using what little upper body strength he had to push against its rabid, snarling face. He could feel its warm, rotten breath on his skin, could feel its saliva as it dripped onto him in thick globs. He grunted, feeling his arms shake against the pressure, ready to give out any second now-

-sensitive content begins-

The wolf was torn away from him, rolling onto the ground with an ear-splitting yelp, followed by another heavy thud as Dream landed on top of it. The wolf rolled off of its back and jumped onto Dream from behind, sinking its sharp claws into his chest, causing red gashes to appear in Dream's clothing and skin, followed by crimson liquid. Dream groaned, dropping to the ground with the wolf on his back, still clinging on with a deadly grip. Dream reached for his sword, swinging behind him with an agonized scream as the wolf's claws sank further into his flesh, ripping it apart. His sword struck the wolf on its neck, making it emit a pained whine, letting go of Dream's skin and giving him enough time to roll away, as thick streams of blood leaked out of the incision on its body.

Dream sank into the ground, losing his grip on the sword as soon as he hit the floor. His chest rising and falling without rhythm, with spurts of blood leaking out of the gashes in his chest at each breath. George sprang forward, crashing onto the ground next to Dream, tears burning his vision.

-sensitive content ends, though there is some mild description of injury for the rest of the chapter-

'Dream? Dream, keep your eyes open, don't close your eyes, okay? Look at me.' George guided Dream's head to lay on his lap, making Dream stare up at George's face with fading eyes. 

Gently, George peeled back the layers of clothes Dream wore, trying to get a clear view of his wounds. Dream hissed at every movement, closing his eyes and scrunching his face, trying to keep still as George used the ripped pieces of his shirt to press on the wounds: three long gashes across the centre of Dream's chest, leading up to his shoulder. 

Tears clouded George's vision as he tried to remember how he was supposed to fix this. 'You're a healer, this is your job', he reminded himself over and over again, ignoring the blood leaking down his own arm as he pressed the ripped cloth onto Dream's chest. 'But I've never had to do this on people I know!' his mind shouted back, falling slowly into a state of panic as Dream stared up at him, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

'George, look at me.' Dream rasped out, grimacing at the burning in his chest.

George blinked the tears away, bringing one of his bloodied hands to move Dream's hair out of his face, accidentally smearing his forehead with blood and staining his hair a deep shade of red.

'You're bleeding.' Dream said, expression shifting to concerned as he tried to tilt his head to see George's wounds.

'I'm fine.' George insisted, bringing his hand to rest on Dream's temple, forcing him to tilt his head back down and keep still.

'You're hurt.' Dream argued back, voice more gentle this time, as if he was disappointed in himself.

'I'll live.' George whispered softly back to him, rubbing his thumb on the side of Dream's head, trying to comfort them both. 

'George-'

'Shh... be quiet, don't waste your energy.' George's voice was breaking, but he tried to pour as much care into it as he could despite the tears freely leaking down his face.

Dream brought his hand to rest over George's, where it was pressing against the gashes in his chest. George smiled at that, but it was a pained smile, one full of worry and dread. 

'We need to get you back to the tree, all of my supplies are there.' George murmured, lifting the cloth to check if the wound was deep. 

The bleeding had slowed, but not stopped. From what George could see, it hadn't gone past the muscle or hurt any organs. He let out a breath of relief, laughing softly, with genuine happiness, feeling as though a boulder was lifted from his shoulders. 

'Do you think you can stand?' George was still cradling Dream's head in his lap.

'I can try.' Dream hissed out, already trying to sit up by himself, though quickly realising that that that was not a good idea, leaning back down with an accidental goan that caused more blood to stream out of the wound.

'Here, come on, I'll help, lean against me,' George put one of Dream's arms around his neck, standing up as gently as he could in time with Dream, letting him rest his weight on George while he attempted to gain his balance, 'hold on to me, okay?'.

-  
Summary: Dream throws the wolf away from George, and ends up fighting it himself. He kills the wolf, but not before he is injured by its claws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4.1k words oh my god
> 
> as you can tell, writing action is really not my thing lol
> 
> Tommy started a lore stream halfway through this and having to switch from watching god complex Dream to writing hurt Dream is very confusing but thats okay
> 
> Anywho, I didn't intend on this chapter being so long, but I hope you like it, leave some comments with your thoughts about it <3


	13. Old Faces and Cold Traces

'Tommy, you need to straighten your posture, you cannot fight when your shoulders are hunched,' Tommy huffed, pushing his shoulders back, 'better, now set your legs shoulder width apart.'

Tommy rolled his eyes, moving his feet a few more centimetres apart and looking pointedly at Philza, who was standing across from him with a sword in hand, patiently waiting for Tommy.

'How do you even know all this? You're a farmer.' he whispered in a hushed tone, raising his sword to be level with his chest and locking his legs in place, copying his opponent's positioning in an attempt to impress him.

'Well I wasn't always a farmer.' Philza shouted from a couple feet away, keeping his elbows perfectly still and his feet angled in a way that supported his weight.

Tommy grumbled under his breath, but didn't say anything, choosing instead to look over at Tubbo, who was sitting on the grass to the side of them, loosely holding onto a lead for Bee. He said that he wanted to watch Philza teach Tommy that morning, which made Tommy slightly nervous. Not only was he standing in an odd face-off against Philza, but now he also had an audience consisting of his best friend and his pet cow.

'Okay, now try and attack me. Try as hard as you can.' Philza had gotten ready, raising his sword so that it stayed diagonally in front of him, acting as a long, sharp barrier between Tommy's sword and his organs.

Tommy took a deep breath, and moved ahead, raising his sword above him in an attacking position, preparing to direct all his force into the hit. Philza eyed him as he ran closer, bending his knees slightly, so that the ground below him would absorb the initial shock. His sword was ready and waiting, his arms tense and anchored. 

Tommy's sword crashed against him, creating an unpleasant clank of metal that rang through the empty fields, startling their small audience and making Bee lift her head curiously away from the grass to stare inquisitively at the two fighting figures in front of her. Tubbo lifted his hand to rub her neck comfortingly, as he stifled a laugh at Tommy's pained expression in trying to keep Philza's sword away from his face.

Tommy grunted, his arms growing weaker, letting Philza smile slightly at his impending success. With a laboured huff, Tommy slid away from the situation, making Phil lurch forward unexpectedly. Phil laughed, turning around to stare at Tommy, who now had a more confident expression crawling onto his face. Philza stood there in minor shock at his ingenuity, waiting expectantly for Tommy's next move, already back in his initial defending position. Tommy extended his sword forward, lunging with it and bringing his upper body outward, channeling the strength in his arm towards the sword in his opponent's hand.

Philza reacted with precise, calculated moves, shifting the balance of his feet to deflect Tommy's attack, bringing his sword to hit the side of Tommy's sword, sending his blade to the side.

'Tighten your grip, otherwise you'll get your sword knocked out of your hand.' Phil remarked, watching Tommy's fingers quickly comply, lacing themselves around the jagged edges of the sturdy handle.

Philza edged forward, throwing his energy at Tommy, testing his new and improved grip by striking his sword against Tommy's once again. Tommy, however, had listened, and did precisely as he was advised, securing his wrist into a frozen position of stability, learning very quickly from his own mistakes and making a mental note of the scraps of advice that were thrown in his direction.

Philza beamed at Tommy, sending him an approving nod, before stumbling back a few steps, waiting for Tommy to make the oppressive move next. Tommy did, reaching forward with his blade, slamming forcefully against the tip of his opponent's sword, sending it to point towards the bright morning sky. Tommy smiled, letting pride fill his chest and blossom steadily at Philza's supposed shock.

Philza smirked, letting Tommy relish in his minute long victory, letting him bathe in the golden rays of crisp sunlight that cascaded upon his skin, seeping into his pores and lighting up his expression, making him look the happiest that Philza had seen so far.

Without a warning, or so much as a small sound, Philza stepped forward, pummeling his sword into Tommy's, causing it to fly out of his hand, fuelled by the lack of concentration and false victory on Tommy's behalf. Philza raised the tip of his sword to Tommy's throat, resting the edge of the cool metal in the hollow of his throat, eluding deadly danger. Tommy gulped, guiding his eyes at the body of the weapon, focusing on its ethereal gleam under the daylight, reflecting the clear blue of the sky above them.

'And, never lose focus.' Philza added, looking Tommy directly in his eyes, dropping his voice an octave lower in a strained attempt to emphasise the importance of this particular moment. 

Tommy nodded, making Philza relax his shoulders and guide his sword away from Tommy's neck, turning to settle of the patch of grass next to Tubbo and Bee, discarding his sword a couple feet away and leaving Tommy to stand alone in the small field, staring in near shock at the deceitful farmer, who wore striped green hats and held swords as though he was born to do so.

'H-how do you... how are you so good?' Tommy asked, with genuine interest laced into his normally joking tone, walking up next to where the other two were sat, and sitting down next to Bee, groaning when the small furry animal raised her head to press her face into Tommy's cheek as a form of greeting.

'Tubbo, get her to move her face away.' Tommy whined, gently pushing Bee's glistening nose away from him, pointing it at the grass below them instead. 

Tubbo chuckled, raising his hand to smooth over Bee's fur, resting his palm on her shoulder, scratching it idly.

'Well surely you didn't think I was always a farmer?' Philza retorted, laughing at Tommy's sour expression.

'Wouldn't be surprising.' Tommy shot back, lying down on his back against the blades of grass, staring at the small patches of white clouds as they moved across his vision, breaking up the crystalline serenity of a pure blue sky.

Philza laughed, shaking his head at Tommy's response playfully.

'I used to be one of the King's best men. Before his son was born, of course.' 

Tommy lifted his upper body off of the ground, resting on his elbows, feeling the dirt underneath him sink into his skin. 

'What do you mean 'before his son was born' ?' Tubbo asked, lifting his head in interest as the conversation progressed away from friendly banter.

'King Rowan became obsessed with his son when he was born, always spending time with him, training him. The older knights got tired of leading his own army for him, so we went into early retirement.' Philza explained, keeping his voice steady, but pinched, as though this topic was a sore spot for him.

Tommy and Tubbo shared a confused glance, both simultaneously staring at Philza, waiting for more explanation.

Philza sighed, looking at the both of them with strangely distant eyes.

'His son, the prince of this kingdom, is also a warrior. His father trains him personally. The prince doesn't leave the castle often, nobody really sees him and barely anyone knows what he looks like. Rumors in the kingdom say that he is the best fighter the world has ever seen, though I really doubt it.'

'Why?' Tommy and Tubbo both inquired at the same time, smiling at their thoughts being in perfect sync.

'I, myself, have trained people who are far better than anyone I've ever seen. I don't know where most of them are anymore. None of them were of royal status, so, of course, their legacy isn't spread by everyone within the kingdom.' he sighed, gazing away into the horizon, losing himself in the rolling fields and tall trees that led out and away from the place he called home.

Neither Tommy nor Tubbo said anything, deciding to keep a comfortable, understanding silence between them, while Philza was looking away from them, marking his expression as withdrawn, hiding himself away from the two boys.

-

'Your Majesty, the scouts have arrived with urgent information.' the guard announced, bowing to the figure standing in the courtyard, smoothing the string of an intricate bow between her fingertips.

'Tell them to come meet me here.' she replied, setting the bow down on the cobbled wall and reaching for the battle axe instead, guiding a sharpening stone over the edges of the blade with skilled precision. 

The guard nodded, leaving the courtyard instantly and beginning to pace through the halls of the castle, in search of the scouts. 

Through the window leading out towards the back entrance of the castle, a figure jumped in, landing perfectly on the uneven ground below. 

'Doors exist, you know' Queen Sophia remarked, turning her head to look at the scout that had come crashing through that window on a near daily basis  
.  
'Doors are no fun.' He replied, walking towards her, picking up the bow to look at the carving that was etched into the handle. 

'What did you find that was so urgent?' she echoed, setting the axe down next to to her and jumping up onto the stone wall, grunting as the armour shifted around uncomfortably.

'We found the remains of a fae ritual just outside of the cave near Ellwood forest, looked to be dark magic.' he reported, putting the bow back down and looking worriedly at the queen.

'What? That's impossible, we have wards around the borders.' Queen Sophia snapped, looking at the scout with growing worry.

'We picked up the left over materials, I'll analyse them tonight myself to find out what they were used for.' the scout took out a bag full of shards of crystals and burned parchments covered in candle wax.

'Quackity, this is serious. If this has something to do with the faery courts, then I need to inform King Rowan and King Sadon. They've just sent their sons to negotiate with the merfolk, but if the fae Queen is planning an attack, they're in more danger than we realised.'

Quackity took in a sharp breath, fidgeting with his shirt as he watched the queen pace on the cobbled ground in front of him, auburn hair falling out of the tight bun at the bottom of her head and flowing down in fiery waves.

'Nothing is known yet, Sophia. It might just be a couple of fae children messing around.' Quackity tried, lowering his voice in an attempt to calm the situation. 

'Children don't mess with dark magic, Quackity, both you and I know that, as well as every other person in this kingdom.' 

Quackity sighed, leaning against one of the pillars in the shade, looking at the material they had managed to gather during this morning's patrol.

'We need to inform the kings.' he stated with finality, walking out of the courtyard, leaving the queen to figure out how to even begin to resolve the issue  
.  
-

Quiet, gentle footsteps echoed from the trees, falling softly on the plush grass beneath and gliding over the ground with graceful precision, avoiding the humble spores of mushrooms growing on the forest floor as though that was of utmost importance. Birds chirped overhead, singing their songs to each other while bathing in the tender heat of the late afternoon, enjoying the slow cool of the air as the sun slid down the sky.

The person hummed under their breath, an old folk song about the setting of the sun in late spring that their mother had sang every night, as they watched the hues of orange appear on the sky.

Their bag hung carelessly on their shoulder, the strap made of worn leather and beginning to crack at the seams. The figure strolled through the trees, occasionally moving their face towards a particularly pretty flower to get a closer look, or brushing their fingers along the slender edges of leaves, feeling their waxy texture under their fingertips. 

The forrest was alive tonight: the crickets' song bouncing off of the rough bark, the barely audible scurry of forest animals, as they rushed to their burrows, the twinkling sound of a stream nearby, the wind as it passed the cattails on the bank of a small pond, creating a beautiful, natural melody that wrapped itself around the setting sun, infusing the atmosphere with merciful mystery, evading the approach of the night.

A figure approached the treeline.

The wandering traveller pressed their body against the trunk of an old oak tree, moving their head slightly outwards to watch the silhouette as it submerged further and further into the trees, footsteps sure and confident.  
Gingerly, on unsure feet, the traveller followed the moving figure, making sure not to make a noise and to keep a safe, considerable distance between them.

The other person continued walking, seemingly unaware of the tiptoeing presence behind them, hiding behind thick bushes and fallen tree trunks every time the figure turned their head, looking behind them with an uncertain feeling.

The traveller raised their head above the rock behind which they were sat, looking around sporadically for the intriguing character they were following the footsteps of.

But the figure was nowhere to be seen. As though they vanished into thin air. Gone.

The traveller snapped their head behind them, scanning every tree in sight for some sort of clue as to where the other had gone, but with no luck. It all looked normal, not a blade of grass out of place.

Confusion pooled at the bottom of their abdomen, spreading through each muscle with wary speed, soaking each fibre with mild fear.

'Why are you following me?' a voice boomed from behind, sending a cold shiver down the traveller's back.

The figure from before stood before them, sword in hand, ready and defensive. 

'Who are you?' they asked again, frowning expectantly while keeping their position strong and cautionary.

The traveller stood up, pressing their back against the cold, level stone, putting their palms flat against the rock to try and cool their rising body temperature.

'If you don't answer, I'll assume the worst.' the person warned, inching forward and causing the traveller to press themselves more desperately against the stone with every little step the other took.

'I don't mean any harm.' the traveller said, bringing one hand in front of them, attempting to offput the forthcoming attack.

'Who are you?' the figure repeated, not dropping the tension with which they held the sword.

'My name is Karl, I'm a traveller. I really don't mean any harm.' 

The figure faltered in their approach, locking eyes with the person in front of them, analysing his face for any sign of deceit.

'Then why were you following me?' the other asked, raising their voice into a curious, though wary, tone, keeping their eyes fixated on Karl to make sure that he didn't make any sudden moves.

'How about you lower your sword, and I'll tell you, okay?' Karl asked, making his voice soft and sweet as honey, letting it wash over the other in forbearing waves, watching as they softened their expression slightly, cautiously dropping their sword on the ground below them with an unpleasant thud.

'Well?' 

'I was just wandering through the forest and I saw you. You look familiar.' Karl explained, beginning to feel his pulse calm down, and his heart return back to a more normal and less panicked state.  
'I've never seen you before.' they replied coldly, squinting their eyes with suspicion while continuing to look at Karl.

'What's your name?' Karl asked, completely dismissing the prior statement in favour of getting to know who it was he was talking to.

'Sapnap.' he replied, raising an unsure eyebrow while staring intently at Karl, not quite trusting him enough yet.

'Sapnap.' Karl repeated, feeling the name roll off of his tongue with surprising ease, as though he had been using it for a whole lifetime.

Sapnap continued to gaze at Karl, refusing to drop his defensive stare. He did look a little familiar, he thought, but he'd never seen him. Perhaps he was just tired, and his brain was beginning to see things. But he couldn't shake the feeling of warm familiarity off of his shoulders, it settled on him like a heavy weight, climbing into his thoughts despite his permission.

Karl stared back at Sapnap, looking at the metal armour that hung on his shoulders, and shuddering. Iron armour. He could tell by the very specific shade of grey that he was taught about as a child, as well as the very obvious, bright gleam of it under the scarce sunlight.

Karl moved slightly closer to Sapnap, studying his face with child-like curiosity, while Sapnap was lost in his thoughts, looking at the flowers embedded in Karl's hair, and the grace with which he moved, as though he was floating over the plants below him. He had such a warm aura around him, it was enticing and genuine, innocent like nothing else that Sapnapo had ever felt. Pure.

'You're a soldier, a knight, right?' Karl questioned in a honeyed tone, circling Sapnap as though he was an exhibit, though not in a predator-like way, not in a way that made Sapnap feel endangered.

He nodded slowly, assuming that it was obvious from the chain mail armour and the long, sharp weapon that lay at his feet. Karl hummed in response, moving quickly away from Sapnap, further and further away.  
'Wait!' Sapnap shouted after him, suddenly feeling drained from the sudden lack of Karl's presence, 'Where are you going?' 

Karl looked over his shoulder, already disappearing behind a tree without a reply. 

-

Dream hissed again as George set him down at the base of the tree, hurrying over to his bag of supplies that he brought with him. Dream closed his eyes, fingers digging desperately into the dirt below him as the pain swelled in his chest, feeling like it was burning his skin more and more with every shallow breath he took.

George looked over his shoulder, hands buried in the bag, glass clinking against itself inside, to check on Dream, expression quickly changing to pained at the sight of Dream's twisted face that was distorting his usually collected persona.

Wrapping his fingers around the small vial, George rushed over to Dream's side, kneeling next to him and peering down at his wounds.

'Dream? Dream, hey, look at me,' he rushed out, uncapping the vial with his teeth in a hurry, 'this is going to hurt, a lot, but it's going to be okay, yeah?' 

Dream nodded, already feeling his muscles tense at the mention of more pain.

George leaned over Dream's torso, looking up at his face one last time before pouring the contents of the vial straight onto the gashes. 

Dream's scream was blood curdling, ringing in George's ears like an incessant drum, making his squeeze his eyes shut so as not to have to see the tears rolling down Dream's cheeks as his face ripped with agonised torture. The birds rose from the vacant branches of the trees at the sudden sound, flying overhead and covering the sky with a dark blanket of black feathers, shielding the two away from the eyes of the world.

Dream's cry ripped George apart, making his heart ooze with the overwhelming desire to just take the pain away, to hold this tormented soul in his arms, to cradle his frail character, and take away the suffering, to free him on the confines of this realm and set him free, to just make the pain go away. He forced himself to open his eyes, immediately looking at Dream's face. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, making them red and irritated, his teeth were grinding against each other, a clear sign of Dream wanting to suppress his wails. The vein in his forehead had become much more prominent, and the blood that George had left on his forehead had begun to dry there, making the scene even more bothersome than before.

Through clouded vision, George brought his hand to Dream's cheek, wiping the tears away with the pad of his thumb and running his fingers over the curve of his jawline in a pathetic attempt to ease at least some of the pain, to soothe him in any way he could.

Steadily, Dream brought his hand to rest over the top of George's, keeping both of their hands on his cheek, mixing together blood, dirt and tears.

'It's okay Dream, just squeeze my hand, okay?' George managed to rasp out, voice cracking as he watched Dream's chest rise and fall in an abnormal, laboured pattern.

Dream wrapped his fingers over George's, squeezing as tightly as he could, while moving his head back against the bark, scrunching up his face again as George blew cold air on the wounds in order to help the contents of the vial settle in the gashes. George couldn't feel his fingers, but that was okay. His hand felt like it was getting slowly crushed under heavy rocks, but it was all okay. As long as it helped. As long as it made it easier.

'Dream, I need to stitch up your wounds.' George mumbled gently, gulping as he saw Dream's face twist with another wave of pain. 

'O-okay.' he managed to say, chest heaving with effort to get the words out. 

George moved to try and get the things he needed, taking his palm away from Dream's face, making the other wince. George turned his head back, gathering the thread and needle and settling back beside Dream.

'Just breathe, and it'll all be okay. I promise'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.6k words :)
> 
> I wanted to focus this chapter a lot more on some of the background characters, since I've been flooding you guys with the dnf content.
> 
> I also just wanted to say a massive thank you for all the reads, comments and kudos/votes, it makes me unbelievebly happy that someone liked my writing! <3


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